while who shall say how much of silent sorrow they can cherish and conceal in troubled hearts while they go about their daily business with smiles on their gentle faces, with a tranquil, staid demeanour seeming to chant in soft, harmonious cadence the watchword of All's Well!
Do you not think they, too, keep their favourite skeletons (far less perfect than yourself) hoarded, hidden away, locked up, but not to be buried or forgotten for the worth of kingdoms? Do you suppose they never bring them out to be hugged, and fondled, and worshipped, and wept over?—
"In the dead unhappy night, and when the rain is on the roof."
Bah! It is a world of shams. If a woman is not a hypocrite she must be a stone!
We should give them greater credit though could we learn more of the weights they have to carry. But their training is
