"Should you ever have loved him?" she asked timidly after a pause,
looking at her sister as if she were invested with a new, strange
dignity, that in some way set her apart and hallowed her.

"No, dear, I am sure--not as he loved me. I wish, oh! so much, that I
could have made him happy; but since I know that could never have been,
do you know, Betty, I am beginning to be glad that he has gone from us;
that I can never give him any more pain. I never before dreamed what it
may be to love. You know, Betty, we have never had time to think of such
things; we have been too young. Somehow," and her fingers caressed the
roses in her belt, "things seem different lately."




Chapter XIII.

Cupid Laughs.

_From court to the cottage,
In bower and in hall,
From the king unto the beggar,
Love conquers all.
Though ne'er so stout and lordly,
Strive or do what you may,
Yet be you ne'er so hardy,
Love will find out the way._

--ANONYMOUS