"You might as well tell me not to lay my trouble before my God.

Dear, dear Mr.Hope, who saved my life in those deep waters, and then cried over me, darling dear! I think more of that than of his courage.

Do you think I am blind?
He loves me better than my own father does; and it is not a young man's love; it is an angel's.

Not cry to _him_ when I am in the deep waters of affliction?
I could not write of such a thing to him for blushing, but the moment he returns I shall find some way to let him know how happy I have been, how broken-hearted I am, and that papa has reasons against _him_, and they are your reasons for him, and that you are both afraid to let _me_ know these _curious_ reasons--me, the poor girl whose heart is being made a foot-ball of in this house.

Oh! oh! oh!" "Don't cry, Miss Mary," said Nurse Easton, tenderly; "and pray don't excite yourself so.