I never took her hand in my own, but a nameless influence seemed to enter into my heart, and purify it.

And now, _amigo_, I have written it all, and you may laugh at me for my pains; but that is not a matter of very great importance.

Farewell!" It is rather an anti-climax, after this somewhat practical account of our little heroine, to inform the reader that Redbud was sitting down, crying.

Such was, however, the fact; and as conscientious historians we cannot conceal it.

Overwhelmed by Miss Lavinia's fatal logic, she had no choice, no course but one to pursue--to avoid Verty, and thus ward off that prospective "suffering;" and so, with a swelling heart and a heated brain, our little heroine could find no better resource than tears, and sobs, and sighs..