old thoughts came right in and left me no peace. Even while I was reading
I could not fix my mind on the book, and when I laid the book down, I had
gained nothing, but was as sad and hopeless as ever. Happiness is not for
me, and the little motto upon my rose may be true for others; it is not
true for me. I cannot 'grasp' the only 'fortune' I care for."

Veronica spoke passionately; with a vehemence that Gertrude had never
before heard from her. Her strong, self-controlled nature had never before
given way and found expression in words. Now the flood-gates were opened,
the stream broke through. Gertrude was distressed at her unwonted
emotion. "Veronica," she said, sadly and lovingly, "this pains me. I had
no idea of your feeling; no conception of your having suffered so. You are
always so quiet and reserved that I thought you had peace within, though
your face is so often clouded with apparent discontent. Now I see that
your heart is heavy. If I could only show you the way to peace--that is
the way to happiness.

The girl said nothing; she only shook her head as if to say: "Peace is not
for me," and her eyes shone like fire with her inward excitement.

"Veronica," said Gertrude presently, "to-morrow is Christmas day. Do you
remember how when you were little children we always prayed together at
night, and how happy you always were at Christmas, and how gladly you
said your little prayer? Will you not pray with me now, my child, as we
did in those dear old days?"

The girl turned her face aside and wiped away her tears. "I will, mother,"
she said, making an effort to control herself, "it will bring back those
happy days in memory, and give you a little pleasure."