"Dear Miss Madeleine," said the pastor, seating himself on the sofa at a little distance from her, "I am sure you are not well—I have observed it for some time; and you may imagine how painful it is for me to see you thus suffering, without having any right to offer you my assistance."
"You have always been so good to me," sobbed Madeleine. "But no one can help me, I am so wretched—so wretched!"
"Do not indulge such thoughts, my dear young lady; do not allow yourself to think that any feeling of wretchedness is so great that it cannot be mitigated. Intercourse with the friend who understands our nature has a wonderfully soothing power over the sick heart. And for that very reason," added he, with a sigh, "I feel it doubly painful that you will not allow me to be such a friend to you."
"I cannot," stammered Madeleine in dismay. "Do not be angry with me. I do not mean to be ungrateful. You are the only one But I am so nervous—I don't understand it all. But don't be angry with me;" and she held her hand a little nearer to him.
Pastor Martens took the hand, and pressed it gently between his own.
"You know I mean to be kind to you, Miss Madeleine," said he, in an earnest and soothing tone.
"Yes, yes, I know you do. But do you believe" and her eye rested on him with an earnest expression.
"I am afraid your mind is disturbed; but I hope that I may be able to be a trustworthy guide for you through life. You have been unwilling to accept me,
