"John, what are you thinking of?"
He stirred as if Di's voice had disturbed his
fancy at some pleasant pastime, but answered with
his usual sincerity,--
"I was thinking of a certain dear old fairy tale
called 'Cinderella.'"
"Oh!" said Di; and her "Oh" was a most
impressive monosyllable. "I see the meaning of
your smile now; and though the application of the
story is not very complimentary to all parties
concerned, it is very just and very true."
She paused a moment, then went on with softened
voice and earnest mien:--
"You think I am a blind and selfish creature.
So I am, but not so blind and selfish as I have
been; for many tears have cleared my eyes, and
much sincere regret has made me humbler than I
was. I have found a better book than any father's
library can give me, and I have read it with
a love and admiration that grew stronger as I
turned the leaves. Henceforth I take it for my
guide and gospel, and, looking back upon the
selfish and neglectful past, can only say, Heaven
bless your dear heart, Nan!"
Laura echoed Di's last words; for, with eyes
as full of tenderness, she looked down upon the
sister she had lately learned to know, saying,
warmly,--
"Yes, 'Heaven bless your dear heart, Nan!'
I never can forget all you have been to me; and
when I am far away with Philip, there will always
be one countenance more beautiful to me
than any pictured face I may discover, there will
be one place more dear to me than Rome.
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