effect intended.

"Ye banks and braes o' bonny Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care?"

is the of stricken humanity everywhere. And Ivy thought of Mr. Clerron,
rich, learned, elegant, happy, on the current of whose life she only
floated a pleasant ripple,--and of herself, poor, plain, awkward,
ignorant, to whom he was the life of life, the all in all. I would not
have you suppose this passed through her mind precisely as I have
written it. By no means. The ideas rather trooped through in a pellmell
sort of way; but they got through just as effectually. Now, if Ivy had
been content to let her muscles remain perfectly still, her face might
have given no sign of the confusion within; but, with a foolish
presumption, she undertook to smile, and so quite lost control of the
little rebels, who immediately twisted themselves into a sob. Her whole
frame convulsed with weeping and trying not to weep, he forced her
gently back on the pillow, and, bending low, whispered softly,--

"Ivy, what is it?"

"Oh, don't ask me!--please, don't! Please, go away!" murmured the poor
child.

"I will, my dear, in a minute; but you must think I should be a little
anxious. I leave you as gay as a bird, and healthy and rosy,--and when
I come back, I find you white and sad and ill. I am sure something
weighs on your mind. I assure you, my little Ivy, and you must believe,