In all my life I have known little of the sweet touch of human sympathy and love, and, Max, my poor heart yearns for them until at times I feel like the flowers without the sun and the corn without the rain,--as if I will die for lack of them.

I am almost tempted to tell you all." "Tell me all, Yolanda," entreated Max, "for I, too, have suffered from the same want, though my misfortune comes from being born to a high estate.

If you but knew the lonely, corroding misery of those born to a station above the reach of real human sympathy, you would not envy, you would pity them.

You would be charitable to their sins, and would thank God for your lowly lot in life.

I will tell you my secret.