A most beautiful picture is presented to the imagination in those lovely girls sitting side by side the arm of Mary Douglas around her companion.
"Mary, my love," began Lady Rosamond, "I have often longed for this moment, but could not summon the courage which the occasion demands." "Rosamond, you startle me by your earnestness," said the former with deep surprise, dropping the title, as familiar companions, at the suggestion of her ladyship.
"Have patience, my darling; you shall hear it only too soon." Between sighs and sobs Lady Rosamond told the whole history of her troubles--the letter and its stern proposal--not forgetting her father's kindness and his great love for her; "but oh!" she continued, "he cannot realize the depths of my misery." "My poor darling," said Mary Douglas, with great tears dimming her beautiful eyes, "why did you thus suffer in silence?
Can it be possible that you can have passed the long winter with such a weight upon your heart, my darling Rosamond ?" "Ah, my Mary," replied her ladyship, "I hope that you may never know how much the heart can bear, or how much woman, in her uncomplaining nature, may suffer.

If I could only learn 'to suffer and be strong'-- in that source lies my weakness.

I am only one of the many thousands of my sex who have had such struggles.

I do not wish to shirk the duty imposed on me, but if more strength were given me to bear it." Mary Douglas sat in silence for some moments, as if waiting a sufficient reply.

She knew her friend's disposition too well to venture any advice that would require a third person's knowledge of the matter.