five; I must be gone an hour before that time. I suppose I must bid you
good-by to-night."

"Not to-night, Paul; I shall be up in the morning to see you go."

"But if Mrs. Mudge finds it out she will abuse you."

"I am used to that, Paul," said Aunt Lucy, with a sorrowful smile. "I
have borne it many times, and I can again. But I can't lie quiet and let
you go without one word of parting. You are quite determined to go?"

"Quite, Aunt Lucy. I never could stay here. There is no pleasure in the
present, and no hope for the future. I want to see something of life,"
and Paul's boyish figure dilated with enthusiasm.

"God grant that you do not see too much!" said Aunt Lucy, half to
herself.

"Is the world then, so very sad a place?" asked Paul.

"Both joy and sorrow are mingled in the cup of human life," said Aunt
Lucy, solemnly:

"Which shall preponderate it is partly in our power to determine. He
who follows the path of duty steadfastly, cannot be wholly miserable,
whatever misfortunes may come upon him. He will be sustained by the
conviction that his own errors have not brought them upon him."

"I will try to do right," said Paul, placing his hand in that of his
companion, "and if ever I am tempted to do wrong, I will think of you