corridor that ran across the south side of the end wing of the
building.

"Suppose Madam Truxton should come upon us, Lizzie, what would she
think?" said Leah, as the two girls crouched down closer together at
the end of the corridor.

"Nothing wrong, I guess, as we have our books; and perhaps we had
better look over our French a minute. What do you say?"

"So we had, as it comes first in the morning," and bending their
heads together the girls were silent for a time, pretending to
study. At length Lizzie closed the book, and Leah began her story.
LEAH'S STORY.

"I shudder, Lizzie, when I think of unfolding the sad story of my
life to you; and yet, I am impelled to do so by this hunger for
sympathy that is so constantly gnawing at my heart. As I have told
you before, my heart strangely turns to you in sorrow. In the three
years that I have known you, and we have seen each other daily, I
have never known you guilty of a single act or word that was
unworthy--"

"Oh! Leah--"

"Do not interrupt me, Lizzie. You must hear my story now, though it
shall be briefly told; and I have one request to make, my dear. It
is, that you have charity for my faults, and pity for me in my many
temptations." She continued: