mind, or soul, or body, never to be quite straightened in this life;-perhaps that we may the more ardently desire the life in which all crooked things are to be made straight, and all dark things plain. If your crookedness is only of the body, you have more reason to rejoice than to be sorrowful,"

If Ruth was disappointed, she was also tranquilized. Hope, suspense, and longing, were alike at an end. She knew her ground. And the old man's reassuring words, and benignant manner, were not without their effect.

Then I took her to Signor Canto. He listened to her with an ecstatic admiration that continually leaped over the narrow limits of his slow English into enthusiastic Italian. "Of course, she had much to learn, and he could see that she was learning it," with a low bow to me," but her voice, it was magnifica, sopra ogni cosa—above everything that he had imagined! It was superba, maravigliosa, wonderful.”

Then he said to me, in Italian, "Something must be done for her feet. She would make her fortune-and yours and mine, too-on the operatic stage."

"It cannot be, signore."

"It must be. Take her to a surgeon."
"I have just done so.
"Take her to another.

vise it."

He does not advise it."

Some one will be found to ad

"And kill her! I beg to decline. Besides, neither Miss Winnot nor I like the idea of the stage."

He made a grimace. Then he besieged Ruth. Unconsciously, the kind-hearted, enthusiastic little man played the part of Satan in the wilderness, and played it well. He held fame, wealth, admiration, power, before her dazzled eyes. Paradoxical as the statement may seem, her crooked feet enabled her to stand firm. For a moment, I was glad she had them. With her rare, exquisite beauty, and her marvellous voice, what temptations, what dangers, what

downfalls may they not have saved her from! They were God's visible protection around her-the pillar of cloud that was shade by day, and light by night.

At last, he gave up the vain attempt. "It is a thousand pities," he said, dolefully. "Such a career as you could have! Still, we have the concert, the oratorio, the Church service; we must make ourselves content. When will I have the honor to count you into my pupils, Miss Winnot?"

I remained in the city two or three days, in order to give Ruth a glance at some of its lions;-Uncle John being only too glad to have us impart even a transient homeaspect to his great, empty house, and very fertile in expedients for keeping us there. The business-mist did not once envelop him during our stay. He was greatly charmed with Ruth; and she was soon quite as much at ease with him as his own children; for him, she put on her brightest face and sang her sweetest songs.

When she returned to Shiloh, it was plain that the trip had done her good. The city-accustomed to all sad and forlorn sights, and keenly appreciative of beauty—had scarcely noticed her feet, but had gazed admiringly in her face. She had met many strangers and not one rebuff. She had gained in confidence and in spirits.

XXXVI.

THE TRUTH AT LAST,

N the afternoon of the day of my return from New York, I met Mrs. Danforth at the Sewing Society. She soon took occasion to lead me into a room apart.

"Well!" she began, "I wrote to Pearl,-or rather, to her mother, and she wrote back that Pearl was away visiting, and she had immediately forwarded the letter. Probably Pearl has received it, by this time, and I shall soon hear how she takes it. By the way, I hear that Rick Thorne is married, and that you had the honor of carrying home the unexpected bride. How does she look? Is she pretty?"

"Very pretty-a perfect little fairy."

"Where does she hail from?"

"Philadelphia."

"Indeed! I have a large acquaintance there. What is-or what was-her name?"

"Daisy Dorn."

Mrs. Danforth gave me one look of unqualified amazement. Then, she dropped into the nearest chair, and burst into a long, loud, ringing laugh,—yet a laugh that I never quite like to hear, because much too broad and noisy for a

woman.

"I do not see the joke," said I, rather severely.

"Don't you? My good gracious! it is too rich!-Daisy Dorn is "-and she went off into another peal.

I waited in silent disapproval.

"Is-is," she went on, catching her breath hysterically, "goodness alive! she is Pearl Danforth!"

"Impossible!" I exclaimed. "That child!"

"Child!" cried Mrs. Danforth, fairly screaming with mirth. "Bless your simple soul! she was of age two years ago. And she has the brain of a Machiavelli under those yellow curls of hers. I'll bet on her against Mrs. Thorne, two to one."

"But her name-Daisy Dorn."

"You persistent sceptic! Her name is Margaret: of course she is entitled to all its variations, Chester called her Pearl, because, as he said, he had picked her up on the seashore. She assumes the others as the fit takes her-Daisy, Madge, Greta, and I don't know what not. Lately, too, she has taken a fancy to resume the name of Dorn,— the name her father bore in Italy, and the only one Chester knew anything about;-no wonder he never found her friends!"

see.

"And it is the German for Thorne!" said I.

Exactly. The affair grows clearer every moment, you

"And Rick will get the property after all!"

"Umph! that's as Pearl pleases! She is of age, you know. Perhaps he will get as much of it as is good for him; he certainly will not get any more. He will find that his wife has a will of steel under her soft, cushiony exterior. By the way, I wonder what possessed her to marry him! I always thought her on the look-out for a rich husband, to be sure, she can afford to marry whom she pleases, now; but then, she did not know it when she did the deed! Can she really have fallen in love with his handsome face, and married him with her eyes shut to everything else, silly-girl fashion?"

Remembering a look that she had given her husband, as he entered the depot, and another in the Bryer's parlor, I averred that I thought she had..

"Then," said Mrs. Danforth, "I should not wonder if she made him an excellent wife, She has brains enough for both; and artfulness enough to keep his simple head from suspecting half the crooks and corners of hers. She will manage him wholly, without his knowing that she does it. She will seem as transparent as a meadow-brook, when she is as deep as the sea. The more she loves him, the less will she allow him to see her as she is, that is, until the softening influence of wifehood and motherhood have made her nearer to what she should be."

"And you

call that an excellent wife! Poor Rick!" Mrs. Danforth looked really abashed. "Miss Frost! 99 she exclaimed in a deprecating tone, "you surely know that I was not speaking abstractly, but relatively, for the present occasion. I do think that Frederick Thorne, with his temperament and characteristics, might have done much worse than to marry Pearl. For, after all, she is eccentric and secretive, rather than wicked. She is such a consummate actress, by nature, that she cannot help playing a part; and, loving her husband, she will play that of a good wife to perfection. Besides, I meant to imply, in the concluding clause of my unlucky speech, that I thought her likely to change very much for the better, in due time. But, my dear Miss Frost! pray do not think that I have no higher standard of womanhood than that!-none higher than I had when I came to Shiloh, three months ago! Is it possible you do not see that I am trying to lead a little higher life myself, even though I do still talk-and perhaps act-carelessly,-that being the 'natur of the critter,' as the farmers say ?

وو

My own eyes

She ended "twixt a smile and a tear." grew dim. I had seen the change in her-though far too subtile a thing to define in words--and rejoiced at it. I told her so, earnestly.

"As the angels in heaven do over a sinner that repenteth!" said she, with the same mixture of mirth and seri