Meantime Ellen lay upon her couch, tossed with many conflicting emotions. Her better nature reproached her for her injustice and cruelty toward her innocent cousin, and almost persuaded her to cease her persecutions, and even to strive to imitate her winning virtues; but the remembrance of the scene in the summer-house, and of Henry's contemptuous look as he left her, without even a parting salutation, awakened the bitter thought that she had fallen in his estimation, perhaps beyond the power of retrieval, and she resolved to keep up the semblance of a pride and indifference which she was far from feeling. For her cousin's opinion she little cared, nor was she influenced by the thought of an invisible yet heart-searching eye. No wonder, then, that she clung to her perverseness, and moved about on her restless pillow with no sweet or refreshing sleep to quiet the throbbings of her heavy brow.

The noonday sun was streaming through her window making the autumnal air seem warm and cheery, when a gentle rap was heard at her door, and her cousin entered. Her countenance was serene and peaceful, and her voice soothing and mild, as she said, "I have come to bathe your head, dear Nellie, Carrie told me you were ill, and I could not feel easy nor happy until I came to you."

"I am better alone," said Ellen, with a repelling motion of the hand. "If I need any thing, I will ring for Meggie; she is quite accustomed to my headaches."

"But, Nellie," said her cousin, in a beseeching tone, "something in your manner tells me that you do not love me, and yet I am not conscious that I have offended you. I can not go from——, without being at peace with everybody. The sermon was so full of mercy and kindness this morning!"

"I do not feel like hearing a sermon to-day," said Ellen, "and you will oblige me, Jennie, if you will leave me to myself, it is decidedly the best way to relieve me."

Jennie said no more; but arranging her cousin's shawl closer about her, and darkening the room, she placed the cooling liquid which she had prepared near the bed, and softly left the room. There was a slight shadow upon her brow as she entered her uncle's study, but it was banished by his welcome kiss. Her aunt and two cousins sat in a bay-window facing the south. Here they had always assembled on Sundays, until there came to be a sort of consecrated air about that quiet room, and something hallowed in the lovely view seen from the window.

"Here is your nook, Jennie, we have been expecting you for some time!" said Carrie, "there'll be such a sad vacancy next Sunday! I don't believe I shall love this room any more after you are gone, dear cousin!"

"I am glad if my presence makes it happier to you, Carrie," replied Jennie; "but you forget that uncle, and aunt, and Mary, and Ellen will be left to you besides the pleasant associations that cluster about all these familiar objects, while I shall be deprived of every thing but dear mamma."

"But every body will love you, Jennie," said Mary, "and you have the power to draw around you whoever you wish, so that your life will be sure to be sunny wherever you go."

"Not every body, Mary," said Jennie, looking thoughtfully upon the glorious view that was spread out before them, "if so, my heart would feel no weight upon it to-day. It is not well," she continued, "to have too much sunshine; else the storms would never be permitted to come; I don't believe we should truly appreciate and love this bright landscape if the shadows were not often flitting over it, thus making the glory more apparent!"

"You are right my child," said Mr. Halberg, "the trying dispensations of our life are wisely ordered, and who of us would dare to wish it otherwise!"

"And yet it seems," said Mary, "as if sorrow never came to some people, they glide through the world so unruffled and cheerful!"

"How little can we judge!" replied her father. "Every heart knoweth its own bitterness, and the outer surface is not always the index to the inner emotions or passions."

"Do you think, dear uncle," said Jennie, "that one can ever learn so to bear the ills of his lot, as always to present a cheerful and happy exterior to the world?"

"Not always, my child," said her uncle, "there is often a weakness of the flesh, when the spirit without its depressing influence, would be strong to endure; yet we may cultivate such a feeling of confidence in the will of God as never to murmur at His decrees, and even to welcome His chastisements, as blessings in disguise."

"That seems so difficult," said Carrie, "I am afraid I could never learn to welcome a sorrow."

"Not simply as a sorrow, my dear child," returned Mr. Halberg; "but as a means to a future good which could not be attained without it; there is a great deal that is hard for our sinful natures to comprehend; but there are spiritual aids of which we may all avail ourselves. Do not let us slight them, my dear children," continued he, rising from his seat, and gathering the three in one embrace as they stood by the window. The golden light was sprinkled upon the landscape, and the whole face of nature seemed to glow with an unusual radiance, as that little band of loving hearts beat in such grateful and perfect unison. Yet was there a sigh in the midst of it all, for the absent and sinning one: