272
ETHEL CHURCHILL.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
POVERTY.
It is an awful thing how we forget
The sacred ties that bind us each to each.
Our pleasures might admonish us, and say,
Tremble at that delight which is unshared;
Its selfishness must be its punishment.
All have their sorrows, and how strange it seems
They do not soften more the general heart:
Sorrows should be those universal links
That draw all life together.
"It is of no use asking me to stay," said Lavinia to the manager: "you know that I never do any thing but what I choose!"
"You need not tell me that," interrupted the other; "but, if you had any sense, you would choose to do what I ask. I have pro-
