their conviction. And were it so, who would strive and moil in this
world? When the heart has been broken, and the spirit ground to the
dust by misery, then,--such is God's mercy--eternity suffices to make
life bearable. When Mrs. O'Hara spoke to her daughter of eternity,
there was but cold comfort in the word. The girl wanted something
here,--pleasures, companions, work, perhaps a lover. This had happened
before Lieutenant Neville of the 20th Hussars had been seen in those
parts.

And the mother herself, in speaking as she had spoken, had, perhaps
unintentionally, indulged in a sarcasm on life which the daughter
certainly had not been intended to understand. "Yes;--it will always be
like this for you, for you, unfortunate one that you are. There is no
other further look-out in this life. You are one of the wretched to whom
the world offers nothing; and therefore,--as, being human, you must
hope,--build your hopes on eternity." Had the words been read clearly,
that would have been their true meaning. What could she do for her
child? Bread and meat, with a roof over her head, and raiment which
sufficed for life such as theirs, she could supply. The life would have
been well enough had it been their fate, and within their power, to earn
the bread and meat, the shelter and the raiment. But to have it, and
without work,--to have that, and nothing more, in absolute idleness, was
such misery that there was no resource left but eternity!

And yet the mother when she looked at her daughter almost persuaded
herself that it need not be so. The girl was very lovely,--so lovely
that, were she but seen, men would quarrel for her as to who should have
her in his keeping. Such beauty, such life, such capability for giving
and receiving enjoyment could not have been intended to wither on a lone
cliff over the Atlantic! There must be fault somewhere. But yet to live