"Shut their eyes to what?"
"Various coming troubles, Mr. Young."
His lip curled slightly, and, replacing the book on the table, he said, as if speaking rather to himself than to her—
"The heart knoweth his own bitterness, and a stranger doth not intermeddle with his joy."
"You are not a stranger, sir."
"I see you are disposed to consider me such. I thought I was your brother. But no matter; after a time all will be well."
She looked puzzled; and, as the tea-bell summoned them, he merely added—
"I do not wonder. You are a shy child; but you will soon learn to understand me; you will come to me with all your sorrows."
During the remainder of this visit she saw him no more. Louisa recovered rapidly, and when she asked for her brother on Sabbath evening, Mrs. Young said he was to preach twice that day. Monday morning arrived, and Irene returned to school with a heavy heart fearing that she had wounded him; but a few days after, Louisa brought her a book and brief note of kind words. One Saturday morning she sat quite alone in her small room; the week had been specially painful, and, wearied in soul, the girl laid her head down on her folded arms, and thought of her home in the far South. A loud rap startled her from this painful reverie, and ere she could utter the stereotyped "come in," Louisa sprang to her side.
"I have come for you, Irene; have obtained permission from Dr. —— for you to accompany us to the Academy of Design. Put on your bonnet; Harvey is waiting in the reception room. We shall have a charming day."