Friends were kind,--some were more than kind; but oh! there are capacities for love friends can never fill.

There are niches in the temple of the heart made for household gods, and if they are left vacant, no other images, though of the splendor of the Grecian statuary, can remove its desolation.

_Deep calleth unto deep_, and when no answer cometh, the waves beat against the lonely strand and murmur themselves away.
I tried to check all selfish, repining feelings.

I tried to keep from envying Edith, but I could not.
"O that I, too, had a brother!" Was the cry of my craving heart, and it would not be stilled.

I wiped away tear after tear, resolving each should be the last, but the fountain was full, and every heaving sigh made it overflow.
At length I heard the sound of Edith's crutches on the stairs, faint and muffled, but I knew it from all other sounds.