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Rh the offer. Bournouville hurried off, and the carriage was ordered to the convent.

By no uncommon transition, Marie was now sincerely desirous of Francesca's company. She laughed herself into amiability by her ludicrous description of the conventual discipline; and when she took leave of her companion, it was with the utmost kindness, and a promise to come soon and see her,—a promise she never fulfilled. Neither interest nor amusement drew her to the convent; the momentary impulse of feeling was past, and she as much forgot Francesca as if she had never existed.

By one individual, the sister Louise, Francesca was most affectionately welcomed; and how grateful did she feel for those few whispered words! We know not the worth of kindness till we have known its want. For days she had wearied with unuttered thoughts, pined with unshared feelings. Heavens! the relief, to say nothing of the gratification, of sympathy! The human heart was never made for solitude; thoughts were meant to be expressed, feelings meant to be partaken. Neglect and suppression are, indeed, the cold and lonely process which turns them into stone.

A few days after, Francesca was summoned to the parlour, where to her surprise, she found the