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[wldeeNI fr Iestseals sar.l
_ E MOTEWR!3 ROW D.
Rash aight; whe Sleep in fted embrace
'the ohldrena's hobas geotly bound,
The moths seeks their resting place,
And makes her lobvig, olas roundt
Paeuag fem bed tobed with watobhhl eare,
P ireX in metherlove bath equal saehm
Arecious burden to her life!
A eri·shed care by night and day 1
Yet through the dreary years of strife
Sweari es met n.e trns awayt
lepinl that when the palsn ad wrk ame pat.
Their hands may bring heroy middrest at last!
a. bhemdsab,, her babt,'s mst,
The blraag o. the hoeuehold and
And feels that o'er that duless tst
Is spr.eadsutsese, ba agel's and.
Ieady teelaim hr Heaven's respledesat throne
The darling child she thrink is all her own.
She bstaBs beside her esly son,
The boy who bear's lfetthename-..
And prays that while t i anmes air one
Their virtues too, . may be the same.
Yet sighs to think bhw ,baoo' distat yeare
Ma try his heart awring her own with fears
els h~er daughter's couch she kneels.
Her eldest, wisest, gentlest, best !
Those eyes stall watch abeve her rest,
Those hands, so small sndnelpless now, shall cheer
Her own dark nilht whebn ge and grief draw near !
And now she thinks of other beds
That need no mother's tender care
The weeping willow only spreads
Its meosatfl arms in silence there,
but Faithatil mrmur. whil the the sad tears fall,
" Deny not Him a Pert who gave thee all!"
__e tlhbnhts go-ae hence te-eher-homes--
All dreary, desolate, and bhre,
beside whose beds no kind-mee-emes
To watch the children sleeping there,
Io prayer as mid, no token ever given -
To teach their hearts that God looks down from Heaven
Sob fancies thrill her heart withlove-
To Slm who makes her home sekMLt
'Whb, bending from His throne abeve,
Defends and guards it day and night ;
And turming now to seek her needed rest
he knows wheae care Is truest, surest, best!
" Oh, bless them all," she softly cries,
" The children Thou hast lent to me, -
- And with my apngels i the skie
-nite tbam freagh etern$y.
Relllnghem, when Death!- dark night stll eams
Fros mother's arms, dear PFather, to Thy lhomer'
(Irem he Cathe o Wodl.].
ROaer r' nsasa or -a aSIm oFr arnoy.
sIAPT X. J.
Just before veqpers, as Icame in rom a hritS
to the hotpital, Mother Frances, our superiormess
calledme to her,and said:
S"lear sister, you have been out nerly da
day, andwece up lastevanl g; youenn So lsto
the church for vespers, and then you had better
gto yotar oell." -
..Mter the scrrices *ereeneddl. remaine-d I
fiwe snmiites to say my tpreyer. When-4y
tisejhad xpised, I went through the clostrs
toa ,oeli; and, just as I .pened 4e door, I
herd from the gate-bell.a ld peal -that rang
Sthrou the silent house. I heard the door
opee Ud a hurrled message delivered.
' Anotsr eall," .thought, and then came .a
quiet t.taºt sdoor. I opened It quickly, and
Mother Ernuo. s tmL ysa
b"I m " r i 1eilsr, toloiaMrbyon y ~r on;
but that peerjtdiWltMy_ Ma L.tetiying.at
the hoe ital, a .t lqtNs moot eaasetly to
'Is she indeed 8pag ys,-I left her so
"Yes; but a Iheal oalge as takena place,
and ahehas not lsg te "v:.
There was no time %ktMnke my anchling
head and wearised itbs . j again
hastily andtogether wa the Rooa
At the einrance of the Marai lay
I met the nure. " Oh! Gad bet,
that you'r.ooene at It! Poor ry
is for you."
This Mary MaaNesl Wa a who
had been brought up in our soosandAer
ward nnintaiad herself by d ee al
toil, poor fare,.aml want ef etke ros
work; And l-ry.lay dying i the lh .s
eonsumption. -he was a god tl .
been long un4er ns espeda
.sternom asie h aimdpIored me to be wth her
during her last moments. Wheo I resnesd her
bed .a alm, happy emile weloosme me, and
the feeble, faint roie spoke a few weans of
greeting, "'adye'n fay the remry aister-!'
I knolt down and complied with Q raquaat. t
When we said the last gloria, Father Borpgd
came, and Mary received the last aemientls. I
I have stood b many a death bed; I have see
the stong man hi4 -ezpr; I hr
saen the atheist. ft im deadin G die,
with despain hi lila h ir' eye and faitbies e
heart; veseen wie wth the emile of I
an angel on their little faces; in every form I I
have met with death; but I never knew a soul I
leave this world that seemed more At for heaven
than that of this young girl. The romaryin one
land, the crucifix in the other, shabe law so calm
and still. Ever and ano*, asl'wiped the death
damp fom the e pale brow, she lift~ed r eyesau
though to thank me. -She seemed desirme to
speak. I stooped over to catch the fw atr.g
gling woxrs, audtrey were: I,
*Thireeki~itee lhkarithve" : er~ilddinbale i
Mothe; she is with me nw." And she mar
mfr tte swts names ehos an sd Marl.
M• ff plpeU tae . I loesed the eyes,
still weang_ thdi look of - gratitude a
and love LI ro d 11 uds, and t.iinedthe .1
:beads areund them, and then knelt. down and I
said the lltany ar the dead. I was Inow pre- I
pring t leave the lhospital, when the nurse
came, sad eskeda me if I would step for a I
minute into the next ward, just to speak to a
poor old woman who -seemed to be getting
worse. This ward was quite full; but I noticed I
a bed.I had seen empty in themoaing, occu
pied; when Ihad fiisded talking to the old i
woman, I asked who the new comrer was.
"Ah f sister, she's .in an awful wary, let her i
be who she may. I asked her this afternoon if (
she would see yu or the priest, and I- dgolare
the look of her frightened me-it was so wild I
and fere. But she's a lady, I am sure; for,
though the poor feet of her were bare and t
bleeding, Wie eiw ragged clothes she hadon
were of the finest, and when she is in her c
senses, she speaks so lady-like; but she went c
on in dreadsfl way, and told me not to talk
to her of sisters or priests, but to do her the I
only kindness I could, and let her die alone; so
there she lies, and not one bit or drop can I get I
"But, nurse, I must see her, poor thing! Per- I
hap I can help to soothe her." 4
Iapproached the bed carefully, shading the I
lamp with my hand. I set the light down on 1
the table, and drew chair to the bedside, and
t down it. Loud, h -vybresthin, and
quick, frightened starts, told me the patie
slept. I gently drew aside the sheet,wi
which shead covered her face and head,
started at the picture that met my gare.
wa •I ominn, seemingly about twond-twen
yeqrs of age; her face and neck were oo
ith a perfect mnpn of thick, glossy hair; "
spread its rich profusion overthe pilltow and t
-the bed-clothes. I took one of the tresses
in my hand, and wondered at its length and I
softaess. One small white hand was throirn i
above her h
hui o tightly that I col not move it, est I I
should wake her. Before I hadl sat -many
miaates, the aleeper awoke with a loud, piercing I
scoeam, and a quPick fearful start. lald my
hands on her to mesthe her.' . t
tt "Do not be frightened," I said; "yo are d
quite safe." -
"Who are you F' she eplied ahrnptly ind
" am a Sister of Mercy, and I am anxious to s
"I don't wont you.; go away; you only tor- y
ment me." She trnedl from me, and onceulea
"I am afraid yeou mistake me," I said very
gently; " indeed; I only wish to do you good."
"Do me good t You cannot; leave me alone! r
Let me die asI haelived." - -
"GOd is good, and very merciful, ny lpoor t,
" Dsn't mention his name to me. Leave me! a
Let me be forgotten by God and man. Let me c
die, and do not torment me." c
"God loves you with an infinite love-a love v
more tender than ou can imagine." .
"Itell you to gofl .I am cursed, hated! I a
want no good; J Iwill listen to none. Your I
wordsare all in ain; save them and go " a
Witthese wordsoehe resolutely turned from h
it me, and covered her face with the clothes, so e
a, thatebe could neither hear nor see me. I took a
my reoasry, and knelt down, and said it for her; o
I and ardently did I pray that the poor heart
o might be turned to God. When I had knelt y
r above an hour, she turned fiereely round, and o
a -" A you still there what are you .doing" d
7 "Lam praying for.on, my sister." a
n " ý for me!" and a wild fearful lagIh a
I sosndetrugh the quiet room. " ing a
g for me; mlyname laro tten in hearea. t d
,r do that.. mother Is in heaven.- Dea'n et
my name beeard there, or she will know biut a
a go-sway, and leave me. Heaven and earth
d have abandoned me; why need you care. forh
; The delirium and fever seeed to increase aso
ut rapidly, thatI feared my longer stay would be
a useless. A torrent.-of words were pouring a
quickly from the pamrched lips r now a wild ap
0 e fearfui eryt't GOa for mercy; then ad
-eadthl· outburst rflepseehes and contempt a
I, against aven; then a wild nautch of son&g, li
anda hlaugh hoamrty,it almost chilled the 14
g bloeinm tonce, Od once only, the I
a iIsud'w oiogew calm and. ebet, eand a quiet o
n leok cameaponsn the flushed face when she t
lseied she was a girl at home again, and her
y .mether was speaking to her. g
r, e home, for I was of no ee, and-the a
v the poor seierer an opiate before I a
could not restm; that wild, beautiful a
o was befae me, an those pitlthl cries rang it
i, F.ears l. ag.ht. The following morning el
SI a ned to the 7ospital. I found my patient fa
n, more let, ands good deal exhausted. hi
i I pacured as isn otfold Water, and wetting tc
h a hat derehief, placed it upon her burning e
Shbrow. o t celes seemed to revive her; for A
r after I'k d bathed her forehead for some min- gi
r uteas,.ahe eind her eyes and said, in a faint at
d rq "Is that yea, mother bless you, thank hi
lf .' bu.tafar earnestly at me, she Il
turned awa with a despairing h I nevet B
ab fore . after I had well bathe her face as
I and hea I thered the long hair and ar
r aithetls netade a cap. how beautiful s
a she lskedl the ed lash was goee, and her p
Sface was air sad white as marble. The lihtb
i eyebrosna wae:m; aked so clearly and are
a so beautifll, and the noble open brew was so E
f fair, I ceouldditllanish every ein. Again my fa
I tera.fell upon erface as I stooped over her. .
I She _vo a quick ar - "Who are as
S"I aam a Sister of Meky, one who loves you."
S- "Lves me i and is that tear for me ?" di
a "Y,--notf only one, but many more I have as
a shed fao-yoe."
> "O Sister " and she turned and threw her- so
self on my breast, "that is the first tear any J
one has shed over me since my mother died. m
4i x eiithas ! ase e ai tiR of bateor
r- ayaadlhe, ted, it nething, coole
ever gain sofety ttSfear was a dew-drop
ie frm -eaven..:A sw tne sineel fantein
he Ju as heram d she used to ceaae,
a night-after night, and, bless me; just as it did
SIeaib sgrh before I left her. O aisterrdo noet
4 letne. in your arm yea are so good, and I
s hve b en asawleked and aiiuL".
a "Nay, rest here; aseisare so sinful but there
a is love and mrey left fe* thli
a "Mercy c ane dare I, hope for it t"
g "Hua my c , am ate tiring yeraelfonut;
a- "And deyo promlse never to leave me fill
& Il46-1. , will w you stay with me T"
" I wl indeed doall I an ; for the present I
r mut go. ;Will yon let me plt this around y ouT
S(It wasam' dal of the Immaculate Conception.)
e "Yea," she replied, and took it with a trem
ld ing hand.
r, "Are you a Catholic?" I asked, startledby
i the hste with hinh she seized it.
a ': am, aister,"-And then a burning blush came
r over her face. "I ame, but a guilty, ungrateful
k "Then will you any some short prayers, while
e I Io and visit my other patients T"
o I will, but it is long since I have said a
At the end of an hour I returned, and found
- her weeping bitterly. -She- took my hand and
kissed it. I tried to quiet her excessive grief.
e I said, "Do not cry, my child. Tell me, can I
n help you--can I do anything for you? My
na sameiisster Magdalen; whatshall I cll yoI a T"
is Eva. "Well then, Eva, Lie omfo
have sinned, there is mercy and hope for
if you are unhappy, there is comfort.
at this;" and I gave her my erucifix
not this, teach you to love and hope '"
re was no answer, nothing but bitter sobs.
I knelt down, and said the Memorare, tand then,
d taking Eva's hand, I was about to speak, when
e she said, "Sister, siater, when I am better, and
d have strength to talk, I will tell von my his
a to and you shall teach me to be better."
e ont, a e becate.so
I ill that we thought she must die; but God so
7, willed it that sheiegan to inprove, and, at
g last, was able to speak and think rationally
r gai. One@ eveiL g lsat by. her bed. saying
the rosary while she slept, when, looking and
e denly at her, I found her eyes open, and fxed
upon ne intently.
. " 8iste senn she said," I want to tell
you my history; itis a very sad one. Ihave i
sinned and suffered-will you hear me. "
" With pleasure, beeaune when I understand
you, I can the better help you."
i And as she told it to me, I here give it.
c- CHAPTr H.
Il need not trouble you with the history of
any ,ihildhood; it was spent alone-with my dear
11ther, in a-pleasant littlevllagenear Bristol,
r antd wau a ve}ryGappy and innocent one. My
fatter died before I was born, nut he left an
t ample fortuneto my mother. I was her sole a
e care and treasure; next to me she loved and
cared for our little ehurch., The mission in our a
a vill aiwas buta poor on~; my mothea was its
chief support. To our care was gvet
I sacristy, the chapelthe El icItabn, and flowers.
r I used to spend hours.in dressing the altar and I
arranging the flowers. The memory of those
I hours has never- died; it has lived with me
s ever ; and even amid scenes of vanity and pee
t sioi, it has hang about me like the fkao e
of a flower. - w
t "My mother was the aweetest a' most
t gentle of -women the early leset of her hts- i
I rand gave her a shook from whleh she never t
recovered; and she made a resolutien at his
" death to devote bar whole lifs to my educatioin -
and to works of charity. I eannot think of her I
4 witheMoltrs; abe was so patient and dd,
g mar did ever hear ane unkind or hasty wor
t m her. -
' "~I grw up-iwellkilediall the ascomplish- I
t meate my mother loved and taught. One I was I
t psinately fondeto and that was painting. I
r ad talent for it, ndsa cultivated taste. 1
S" Imagine, sister, the .*arse of streamlet.,
a with carely a ripple upon it, glittering in te 1
ra iht sunlight, ever lowing calmly anfgently,
ani you have a perfect image of my hildhood. r
"This lated until I was sixteen. A few t
daps after my birthday, a letter came from my 1
t mother's agent. a solicit in London, request- a
ung her immediate peenee. Not liking to t
e leave me behiund lest I should be dull, my t
a mather offered to take me with her. I we t
t oveeyed at the proposal. London was a die- v
e tant fairyland to me, and I know no rest or t
peace until we started. We were to stay at 'ii
Mr. Clinton's, a distant relative of my father's, t
e who kindly offered us the use of his house. He [i
[ was married, but his-wife was dead, and he had a
Saone only daughtr, with whom I soon became a
intimatly acquainted. Bells Clinton was an a
elegant girl, and foremost among the leaders of K
ason. I had not been there long before I a
began to blush for my country dresses, and as
tonished my gentle, yelding mother by the' .
extravagant demands I made upon her purse. I
Ah I there I learned the fatal truth that was I
gifted with beauty. I had heard strangers say fi
at home, 'What a handsotie child! how like ti
her father;' but I never realised the fact until a
I stood ready dressed for my first ball, where 0
Bells had persuaded my mother to accompany a
as. - - a.
' Bells had chosen for me a robe of pale pink e
satin and a 6ieh laie skirt- she twined pale
pink flowers in my long blaik hair, and goklden y
braceletwareund' my arma, and then led me to sa
her mirror, and said, 'I am almost jealous, hi
Eva! Ah the face pictured there was very w
fair, the eyes were flashing with light, the
sheek was tinged like arose, the white neck le
sad arms shamed even the pearls that gleamed
upon them. Beautifkl; brght asnd sparkling be
the picture was; but would to heaven I had w
died as I stood there, for I wae t!;s. ienucnt Ie
and good. -....
" You, perhaps, sister, never saw or cared to Ir
see a bll-room; on me the effect waselectrios. re
Just as we entered, the sweet, ascinating I
melody of a ppularn walt was floating rounan Es
r the.r ooelte'e th ldit'tlt was Ac twl rrtlms
i light an4 ttF;:jwelb wrashing; fesathers
waving, rich. atin were. glemming. aend the.
warers to y vice's gse were ebeing
S." Miss Cllotoi w'as oo' sUriii aded with
I friends, mid I Itezted with tatonisihnt toher
t *itt' separtses i&h& anisatea cniiersation. I
[ was untednaed'to msany of her' fLeiiti;s our
gep or partty? a I eourldiawfs 'to perceive,
the. ma erselet in ti<bmn. Lsmtb myhmothe
endeavoring to give mattestieon to some offer
who was dotai a_ ng adventure, when
a face and forn s -t-as t my atten
tion; it was th noble looking man, with
ia head remarkable the extreme beauty of
, t contour and the richnes of its dark -arls.
-Tbe fae oo; though not exactly handsome,
was irresi attractive, tfrom its aristocraetic
mould of feate and melancholy expression. 1
His evee were inglarly dark y shaded
withl'oangtyolashea; they had a irL, listless
look. I watched this gentleman some few
said: 'Can yon toll me who is that distin
I guished looking man standing just beneath the
"' Lord Montford. He is a clever man; but
a very reserved, haughty character; he is
known by the name of Le Grand Seigneur. I
know him well. intimately ; but I never can
1 penetrate the veil of melanoholy that hangs
i over him.'
"'Perhaps he is unhappy,' I said'simply; ' is 1
Shlie married r'
"' No; he is one of the beet parties of the-se- 1
son. Some say an early disappointmont-i the 1
hassa distatete for the societyof your charming
sex.' And my infokmant made a low bow.
"A dozen more questions trembled on my
lips; but not liking to continue the converea
tion, I remained silent. Suddenly looking up,
I saw Lord Montford's eyes fixed upon me. I
.blushed, feeling like a guilty ttprit. In a few
minutes Miss Clinton came to nie, and said:
"' Eva, you have made a splendid conquest. I
Here-is Lord Moutford asking to be introduced
"" Indeed I cannot,' I replied, shrinking,
s scarcely knowing why.
"' Mrs. Leasoni, make her come,' said Bellsa,
smiling to my mother.
" 'Go, Eva,' my mother said ; and I went.
My first mpulse was to run away when I saw
that tall, stately form bendig-before-me; bu*
he looked at me with so kindly an expression
of interest and admiration that I acsepted the I
-invita-i fon-r th . qadriile- with less of I
fear and restraint -than I had hitherto felt.
When the quadrille was over, Lord Montford I
took me into the refreshment-room.
n'It is no idle complinlent to tell o, Miss
Lesson, that I enjoyed that dance more than I 1
hae done anything for years.'
"'Whyr I answered innocently, looking up
with astoninhment. He smiled and answered:
" ' If I wished to flatter you, I should saye- I
cease you are more-beautiful and grscefal than
any lady I have Veen for some tie- but the
real truth is, that I esan perceive this is your
first ball, and the freshness of your idea. is I
something novel to me.Y
"'Are not mny ideas like other peopl~af I
"Far rom it.' - - i
' I am very sorry,' I began, half heitathi
ly; 'indeed, I wish to be like every h. else.' j
' Never 'wuih so again, Miss Leoeon; wish I
always 4t besut as yom amt new.'
: Jiustat. his momrt my motherand Bells I
joined us, and h relinquished my arm.
. Why,Evs,' said_ _Mls Clinton, Surely you c
have some chrm. I halre known Lord Mont- f
ford for years, and I never sawhim so animated 1
or so happy before.' I
"ButI need net d'efl longer on this part of
my life. ' Dy after day, evening after evening, z
Lord Montford was by my side; and' yet so 1
quietly were these meettigs conducted, that it o
always seemed that chance directed them. As t
Bella cased jesting, my-mother
his attentions. I soon began to look upon seeing I
him as the only thing worth lilng for. I had h
no-thought save for him. As yel no word of n
love had passed his lips, though ould not but a
perceive that he regarded me with no common g
"One day, as we were all in the drawing- ti
room, my mother suddenly announced her in- si
tention of returning home--alnajpt directly. I ii
looked at Lord Montford, and saw an expres- h
sion of pain upon his face. I rose au,dl went to e
the window to hidetilit~irs that were starting n
to my eyes. In an hour after this, a servant a
brought me a note feom Lord Montfird, filled
with expressions of love, and asking for an iins t4
terview, and praying that I would not mention a
'it to any one, even to my mother. I knew Ii
this was wrong, 'and this was the first r
false step in my career. I knew conceal- sl
ment from my mother was, in such a case, bl
wrn,mum; but stronger than the voice of con- at
s.ic.me,stronger than the whispers of my angel t
;gu.nliaiestrenger than the proomptings of faith
:mid obedience was the passion that reigned in
may heart. I wrote a few words. My mother,
'Mr. Clinton, and Bell were going out'to dine. pI
I Vlcaded indisposition sad remained at home.
I promised in the afternoon to grant Lord Mont- of
ford the interview Ise lesired. I went, when am
three o'clock came, to the librairy, aid I left in a
an hour the affianced bride of Lord Montford. I
One thing surprised me, and that was, that he
nied the most urgent entreaties tliat I would
not mention oar interview, or its result, to any th
one. Inmprudently I przmised. a
"The day rnme whes we left London, and m
yet no word would Lorm Montford suffer to be n
spoken of our engagement. He stood in the hs
hall as we passed troiu the house, and he hastily n
whispered to me: tb,
"' You shall hear from me soon. Eva, and my o
letter shall explain alL' sp
"I could scarcely bear the quiet, tranquil ai,
beaty of home; my whole time was spent in gr
wishing for, and thinking of the promised sa
ietter. - n
" At length it came, and I went with i tightly p
held in myhand, to y own room. I cannot now a
remembr all it said, but the concluding words I t
I remember, and they were these: 'And now, som
Eva, I haveo d" yon how dear you are ton, I
d 1s I I 57 beome ad elhlmus eful Win -....
you in mer. ohpm thing mere.
S-A-reason of the utmost mportsaeprevents me
der from at present making publle our engagemlat
I and marriage-a reason so poteat that,if iou
or refase eereey, we mut prt. Iry,m Ea hall
re, bhIs be-t WI you seriie my m love my hope,
er. ay hppiness ferascrumple t
r "A sowith a ppyer for m easent, the
on letter ended; and tt I Ir it doit and wept
m- eyeept-for there a calmer, hoier
th fe in my hearttha I had knowan a
of long time; and the struggle was hard.. My
Is. mother, could I leave her ths How had she
e, nursed me! loved me iand with what pleasure
ie anid pride had she looked forward to my set
n. tI ialifel
ad er sweet fce came before me in all its od
ues ad purity. Nol could not'eaoe e, I -
aw ceuld not thus deceive sad diesppoint her.
m, There was the church, too, with itj altars and
n- flowers* who would tend them? I could nc r
he go, and so I resolved-a resolution, alas! too
soonmto be broken.
Ut "At this moment a hand was gently laid upon
is my shoulder, and looking up hastily, I saw my
an "'Eva, are you ill, my darling, or unhappy?
go Why are you here alone,. and-miserableP
" 'made no reply, but laid my head upon my
is mother's breast and cried aloud. Those were
the last tears I- over shed there. I oven feel
a- now her soft' hand caressing me, and drawing
he back the hair from my brow2 whileshe soothed.
a.e ..'iujdhIhu An. aliselsh iadu.
Mg "'1 am adtlred, mother,' I said, at length.
"'I see you are, Eva.' And she leidme down
sy gently, and sat by me until I slept. Two days
s- afterward I was out, and turning round the
ip, road that led to the wood, Imet Lord ontford.
II found he had arrived that day, and had been
w .waiting many hours for a chanoe of teeing me;
but he looked so pale and ili I searcely knew
st. him., Let me tell the result in few words. I
d promised him to leave hod. ",d-al. - -
Sgs, an to accompany him, wheiever he
"'It is but for a short time, Eva,' said he
la, 'and then we will return, and your mother will
forgive us and bless us.'
t. Why not wait for the short time V I said, for
n hee burned where my' mother's team hrs
u fallen. h" 4
n "'II cannot; you do not know thq ;easons, _
he Eva. But do not refuse me. You ar~'the last'
of tie that binds me to life and-h..'
It. "And he arranged that early the next mooh
rd lug I should meet his carriage in the park; that
we should go straight to London, and there l
as quietl married; and then go on the iame day
"That night, sister, I nevrr slept. tany taimes
ip I half knelt to pray, and perhaps had I-j
I: God would have heardme; lbut there-wathg
e- In my heart that would not let me;. and so, in
n wearily pacing my room, in bitter weeping sad
o grief for my mother, in pisionate tears, when
er I remembered my promise in hard struggle ad
is indecision, did I pass my lat night under my
mother's roof. When morning dawned, I tried
to go and look:at my3 mother; twice, thwe es I
hail tpp fhe dq6r, and, sbudde oglsed
f it; and ltlih-tlas p half leaig
sh from my hoem 91gult sgtlv% er ainei, willful
child.- I went-out in tote puce, sweet, morn
Slug air, and Jt (ained so oftly my burning
face; the birds were singing such glorious
in carols of praise; the flowers were lifting their
t- fai heads, drooping with dew; peace, and
d beauty, and joy were all around use;- but in my
heart were darkness and sorrow, grief and re
if- morse. Suddenly a strong arm twined around
, me, and a low vuice, whose tones I knew and
go loved too well, poured, into my ars a rapture
it of love and thanks. And in a whirl of time
Ls that seems to me now a dream, I was married
an n aria. Immediately on our arrival at
gParis, my husband-wrote tom mother, telling
her of our marriage connug -er for a time
if not to reveal it, and begging her forgiveness
It and blessing. An answer came, and my mother's
n gentle love spoke in every line, yet her heart
seemed broken as she.wrote. Trusting that
s- time would reveal the mysteryof my husrband's
s- strange desire for concealment, I threw myself
I into the vortex of pleasure and gayety. The
a- hours passed like golden-aoments. I knew no
o wish, no caprice, that my husband did not im
g mediately gratify. The most devoted love a-lr
Sardent afection were lavished upon me; he was
df ver with me; if for oie hour we were separa
-- ted, he flew to me the next. Smiles chased the
a melancholy and languor from his broW, andthe -
r light in his eyes was to me bright,.r than the
t rarest jewel he loved to adorn me with. Itwas
short but brillianWsthi~ dreamn of mine* its
, bliss was dearly purchased. You will think the
story that I am going to tell you strange, but
1 there are stranger in the world.
I CHAPTER III.
" I told you, sister, how devoted I was to
painting; and this taste ty husband spared no
pains to gratify. He took me, one da, to one
of the most splendid piture llere in Paris,
and there, amongst other ef ,vr I notloed
Ia most beautifl piotmre of St. Mary isgdal e.
I st d-entraned before it; it represented a
Sgraceful, alenderlgura kneeling before a rustic
I altar. The hands were clasped in prayer, and
the face was slightly raised toward heaven; but
anything so exquisite as the blended look of re
I morse and love upon those splendid batures I
never saw; it was as though the raining tears
had softened the dazzling besaty and bright.
r nees of the large, liquiteyes, and bad blanched
the rosee on both cheek and lip, and had lef
over the fair face a lingering light, soft and
spiritual. Long golden tresses waved over her
I shoulders, and lay (evel as she knelt) upon the
i ground in theirpro alon and luxuriance. Hop
L sad love were wlte on the noble brow, wh
such humility, such self-abasement -'wr e x
Spremed in the prostrate, kneeling, igare, that
a ue glance the history was read, I forge
time, place and all things-my whole soulb
sorbed in the wondrous beauty of the pioture.