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and, besides, there was a certain exultation in not being sent out of the room that absorbed all her thoughts in the fear of discovery.

“Oh, you must not mind what they say,” said Alice, finding voice at last, and anxious to be consolatory. “In a little place like this people must talk, or they would die. It’s their only amusement—their opera box—their lending library; you can afford to laugh at their gossip.”

“Yes, I know. I never used to care what they said about me, but now—now I feel so strange; it’s such a sudden step. However, we shall all be going away soon, I suppose. Mr. Campbell will go to India, and you will be leaving the village soon. It’s been a pleasant summer, but now it’s all over. What is that verse—‘The summer is past, the harvest is ended, and we are not saved.’”

“Why do you say that?” said Alice involuntarily, looking at her clear sad countenance.

“Well, good-bye, Miss Lauder; perhaps we shall never meet again, so you will do this for me?” She held the letter again to Alice, who took it silently, and the two women remained for a long moment looking intently at each other. At last Lizzie removed her steady, melancholy gaze, took Alice’s hand for one in-