It was the first time that they had left the house since the news came that one they loved was dead; and the fresh air, instead of reviving their drooping spirits, seemed but to open their wounds afresh. There were lofty fir trees where they walked; and they listened mournfully to the wail of the wind through the branches. The souls of both had sympathy with the sound. It was one that in happier days they had loved in their old home in England, and they shuddered involuntarily as memory whispered to them of the past. tad: altul adt habisgy Ina

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"I cannot bear it," sobbed Gertrude; "there is such horror in my thoughts, I cannot imagine him as you say he i +is dead buried.l 1. It seems to me but yesterday that we were together, loitering remember it, Alice? in the wood where the loved to play unit wash so dark and thick. was with us, and Edgar and Marie threw the gathered fir-cones at him in their sport. How happy he looked! How full of boyish spirits!" meritse vigors 287 909,

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"Happy!" responded her sister, sadly; ffyes he was happy then; and well do I remember how he looked that day, so high-hearted and so generous. Never, no never, will I believe that he died without "

"Hush, Alice; do not speak of that. I warned you that it is more than I can endure." Andrathe weak woman's tears broke forth afresh, and choked her utterance.

Alice sighed heavily. She found it very hard to deal with her sister's grief, embittered as she feared it was by her er remorse; for Lady Thornleigh had never trusted the girl with her dark secret; and there were moments when that confiding heart almost feared the

worst. Most true it was that the arrow that had struck at poor Gertrude's breast, was barbed by the reflection that death had claimed her husband ere he had forgiven her; and that now he was, perhaps, beyond the knowledge that her punishment was greater than she deserved. How often and how sadly did all the memories of her married life come crowding upon her; urging her to a longing (almost verging on the morbid cravings of insanity) to hold communion with him who was gone hence and would be no more seen. In weariness often, and in anguish of mind beyond description, did she repeat those saddest of all words, "Too late; and Alice sighed to hear the remorseful groan, breathed forth even in the stillness of the nightands

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The unhappy woman had never contemplated so sudden an send to her long estrangement from Philip; nor had it ever crossed her imagination as a possibility, that he would be the first to die.

She had had visions of her own deathbed and of a pardoning husband leaning over her pillow, and imprinting on her dying brow the dear kiss of reconciled affection. But what was the hopeless reality! He was no longer an inhabitant of this earthly world; they had parted in enmity, never to meet again; and she was wandering alone beneath the rocking branches, with the wild wind wailing above her head: far from home and country, with ruined fortunes and a blighted reputation!

The sisters sat down on a fallen tree, and Alice threw back her veil that the wind might blow over her flushed and tear-stained cheeks. She, too, was altered, but in some respects the change was for the better.

The fresh beauty of early womanhood had passed away, but in its place had come a loveliness that was for all time. Daily and anxious thought for the feeble ones committed to her care had added pallor to her cheek, and filled the violet eyes with such deep feeling, that they seemed even softer than of yore; while, though she rarely laughed, her smile (ere this crushing blow came) was frequent and singularly beautiful.

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To little Marie Thornleigh, Alice had ever been dearer than aught else on earth; for from her earliest infancy the child could not remember either the hour or the day when the girl-aunt was not ready to be happy with her, or to sympathise in her sorrows.i The selfishness of children is as much part and parcel of their being as is the instinct of "self-preservation," which is said bysages to be the first law of nature; and it was the working of that quality in Marie's mental constitution that caused her to shrink, almost with dislike, from the sight of her mother's melancholy face, while she sunned herself in the light of Alice's smile in her happy home at Thornleigh.

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It was, perhaps, well for both the young aunt and her little niece, that they had early been removed from the surroundings of enervating luxuries, and had been cast upon their own mental resources, before habit had unfitted them for the exertion that gives strength.

The regrets of Alice Ellerton were almost exclusively for others, as, after the first chill of disappointment had subsided, she found cause for self-congratulation in her escape from a union with Francis Herbert; but there was something very trying even to a nature so unselfish as hers, in the constant spectacle of Gertrude's depression, -a depression from which she

never rallied, and the gloom of which was never enlivened by the most transient ray of brightness.

And in the early days of their sojourn at Kelhouet, even Marie was a disappointment and an occasion of distress; for she was for ever lamenting over her lost pleasures, grieving over the absence of her living pets, and longing for the companionship of her absent brother.

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It was then that Alice perceived how much there was for her to do, in disciplining the infant mind, as yet untaught by the lessons of the stern rugged nurse, Adversity; and how sacred was the duty that had devolved upon her of leading her little niece to draw from the well of her own sorrows, sympathy with those of others.

It was a hard task to make the spoilt child of luxury forget herself; but as the mildly yet constantly administered lessons took effect, what hitherto undiscovered sources of enjoyment sprung up in that young heart!

There was not a bud that peeped out from its nest of leaves but Marie watched it anxiously, in the hope that the flower's beauty and fragrance might give pleasure to her suffering mother: and as for sacrifices there were none that she would not gladly have made for those, to whom she knew herself to be so dear. All this improvement, however, in the child's character was not effected in a day, but was the result of a long and sometimes tedious process, the more sure

and certain because it was the well-done work of time.

And thus years passed away, and they had grown accustomed to their retirement, and attached to the

little château wherein they dwelt. It was a pretty nest, sheltered by huge walnut trees, with a pleasant garden in front, in which bloomed gorgeous flowers. The roof was of slate, and sharply pointed, and from a pigeon-house near, the doves flew and fluttered, cooing softly their never-tired love-notes.

Happy is the child-girl, and happier still the woman, who has passed through her days of danger in the undefiled paradise of flowers! With no breath but theirs to mingle with her own, and with no touch less delicate than that of roses, to rest upon her glowing fingers, she can exhaust much of her warm affections on those bright children of the soil; and the inborn love of creating, of nursing, and of rearing, with which all women are blessed (or cursed) can (when other passions have not already destroyed the taste for simple and innocent excitements) find happy exercise in the manual culture of a garden.net

The exiles had a few acquaintances, and one friend in their adopted country. The former were quiet, simple people, "keepers at home," and living in patriarchal fashion.

There was a hearty kindliness about them that charmed Alice, and a true hospitality that was far above and beyond the conventional "Glad to see you's" of more artificial society. Their hours were early, and their fare was frugal; but it was a pleasant thing to hear their truthful welcome; and it mattered little that the bouilli beef was tasteless and stringy, and the pears and plums (which were the staples of the meal) but half ripened by the sun; for warm hearts beat beneath their homely garments, and the dinner of herbs was seasoned with words of hearty kindness.

Recommended to Mercy. I.

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