ences," we needed nothing further to convince us, that he was incapable of appreciating the disinterested motives that actuated them.

An hour passed away, and as Emma folded her letter a few stray beams from the lamp before her fell on something in her cousin's hand. While Kate's dark eye was fixed upon this, Emma's hand glided through her own sunny curls, and dissevering one from its sisters, she laid it in the missive, then moistening the envelop she pressed it together. This accomplished, she turned to make some preparations for the morrow, but on discovering her cousin she hastened to her side.

"Why, Katie dear, I did not know you were here," she began; then perceiving the miniature, she delicately drew back.

"Come here, Emma, and bring the lamp," said her cousin, in a voice husky with emotion.

Emma obeyed. "Is it his picture?" she asked, kneeling down by her side.

Kate did not reply, but concealing one part of the daguerreotype with her hand, she pointed to the other. "Roderic!" burst from Emma's lips, as she started back. 66 How came you with this?"

A faint smile played over Kate's features, as she removed her hand and pointed again. "He had several taken alone, but this was much the best, and I preferred it, both on that account, and because I knew

you were so cautious you would be afraid to carry one concealed about your person. He left you none,

'did he?"

""Tis so like him!" said Emma, evasively.

"I should have shown it to you sooner, but you've had so much trouble of late, and we've been so little alone."

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"O! Kate, Kate," said Emma, without noticing her remark, " we are idolators, all of us! What heart is it that has not its shrine before which it kneels in adoration? How many of us worship the creature instead of the Creator. We are but poor, weak, frail mortals, my cousin, and if left to ourselves, we would rush blindly forward, and often, perhaps, forsaking the beaten path, would lose our foothold in the quicksands of temptation. Truly have we need to pray for Divine assistance as we journey along."

"Were you to lose him, Emma, think you you could still place your reliance in your heavenly Father, and bow to the stroke without murmuring?"

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"O! yes," was the reply, while a holy confidence illuminated those beautiful features. "It would cost a struggle, though; and you have but to ask your own heart, to know how severe would be the trial. But I would not allow myself to brood over my sorrow; I never have done so. We have only to endeavor to do what is right, and leave the rest to Heaven. He

always spoke thus," and again her eyes were fastened on the picture.

“She talks so calmly,” mused the Southern maiden, as they relapsed into silence. “I should accuse her of lack of affection, were I not sure she loves him devctedly. This holding in subjection these emotions that sweep like a hurricane through the heart, is incomprehensible to me. Have I not put forth every effort to still this inward tumult? and yet, of what avail has it been?"

CHAPTER XXV.

THE MOTHER'S PICTURE.

"O! THAT those lips had language!" Can it be
This is the semblance of reality?

Did such a glorious being give me birth,

And is she yet a habitant of earth?

Would she now love me? Would those red lips bless

Her child in tones of melting tenderness?

"My mother!" ah! another bears that name,

And never holier, purer, deeper flame

Could e'er be kindled in this heart of mine,

Than that ascending toward the adopted shrine.

"GOOD-BY, Lena!

You have served me faithfully for well-nigh a score of years, and it seems hard that fate must part us now."

The servant wept. "If I could only go with you," she said.

"I sincerely wish it could be so, but you know that is impossible. Accept this, as a token of regard from one who has fully appreciated your untiring discharge of duty;" and she handed her a beautiful gilt Bible as she spoke. "Study it attentively, Lena; nothing I can think of will benefit you half so much."

Lena received the gift silently, and pressing the proffered hand, turned away.

"Where is Miss Emma?" she asked, in a hoarse voice, as Mrs. Bartlett ascended the stairs.

"I'll send her down in a moment; she's busy just now in the hall."

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Good-by, Lena," said Miss Bartlett, a short time afterward, as she reached the servant's side

"I want to speak alone with you, Miss Emma, please step into my room here."

Emma obeyed. "Be quick, Lena, they are almost ready to start."

"I know; I tried hard last night, but Miss Kate was with you, and this morning, but you were out; I couldn't find you."

"Well, do hurry, I'm afraid they'll call before you begin."

"I have something to give you," began the servant, in a low voice, "I would rather Mrs. Bartlett would not know it, for she might blame me, but I pledged my word and I will comply."

"Well," said Emma, impatiently, "what can it be?" "I have known you all your life," continued Lena, "ever since you were born. I knew your mother, too, your own mother!"

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"You did, Lena!" exclaimed the girl, starting. Who was she? Tell me, tell me all about her," she cried, eagerly.

"I can not tell you more than I know. Here is her picture. She gave it into my keeping, and made me

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