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194 but by the beatings of another's heart,—thus, as it were, to double your portion in every risk and weakness of humanity.

"I cannot describe to you the mixture of anxiety and shame with which I desired to know how I looked. One morning, while alone with my mother, I asked her to bring me a little mirror that was wont to lie on the table; she smiled, and said, 'Not yet, Louise.' I never felt one moment's care after that—I knew that she could not have smiled, had she anticipated any very terrible alteration. At length I was able to rise—to move from one chamber to another, and at last to see François. Do you wonder I cannot bear flowers, when I tell you that he used to bring them to me every day? I was too happy: earth, in its perfect enjoyment, had no thought for heaven. Life is but a trial; and wherefore was I to receive my reward before the time? But, ah! my friend, a woman may well be forgiven for the passionate sorrow with which she sees the empire of the heart pass away from her. Is it a light thing to discover that you are poor, where you deemed that the most precious riches were garnered?—to find what had seemed to you like fate, treated as a trifle and a toy?—to think that affection, which gathered pride from its imperishable nature, is yet