"For what?" "To ask you to delay a little your departure." Why?" "Will you? will 66 you?" Why ask me? oh, why?" was the sad answer. "Wait one day, only one.' He did not answer. "One day?" she said again, very earnestly. Still no answer. "One day. Wait till to-morrow evening. Promise me." "I will." "At eight o'clock in the evening you shall be free to go. "I promise to wait." "Will you answer me this question ?" she went on, "what were you doing at the wood man's cottage?' "The poor old man is ill," he answered, half apologetically. "You were helping him; you were giving At such a time as this, with him money. your own sorrows weighing you down, you can think of the sufferings of others, you can turn a helping hand to your fellow-creatures. Oh, if I hesitated before, this last act of yours would decide me." "Why should not my last act here be one of charity?" he asked, slowly. "One thing more I have to do before I leave England-" "No, no, no," she cried, and without waiting to hear more, hurried away back to Woodland Hall. It is again evening. Fifteen minutes to eight. Charles Ross is walking impatiently up and down in the library. He has not seen Mrs. Foster since their interview last night. He has asked a servant where she is, and has been told that she went away early in the morning, and has not returned. Ten minutes to the hour. The whole house is as silent as the grave, only the floor creaks occasionally, murmuring at the young man's restless pacing to and fro. For a long time not a word has escaped him; only he has made an occasional gesture of impatience. Five minutes more have gone by. Still no sigh, no sound. The hour strikes. A light footfall is heard, the door opens, Mrs. Foster enters. She has a paper in her hand. "Mr. Ross," she says, advancing towards him, "I bring you the just reward of your unselfish generosity." "What I have done is only what I should do," he answers. "Take this," she says, "and know that there is still some happiness, comfort, and prosperity in store for you." She puts the paper into his hand and hurries from the room. He must be alone when he reads it. He opens it with trembling hands, and these are the words that meet his eye : "You have given Woodland Hall to my son, in return I give you The Grange. Take it, and be happy with it. You cannot refuse it, if you would spare me pain! You have ever been kind and considerate to those beneath you, you have ever assisted those in distress, you have ever tried to comfort the afflicted. Do so still at your new home, The Grange." Ross's emotion gets the better of him as he reads, and presently he weeps. At length he murmurs through his tears "Be it so! I accept this new trust. Who knows, I may yet be happy." Let us hope so too, for his sake. CHAPTER XVII. THE CURTAIN FALLS. "If God hath made this world so fair, Will Paradise be found!" JAMES MONTGOMERY. A FEW words more, and we have done. A few more words to tell of Mrs. Waining's atonement and sad end-a few words more to tell how Mrs. Foster has since lived a quiet and secluded, but, withal, happy and peaceful life at old Woodland Hall—happy in the knowledge that her son is learning to become a great and useful man-peaceful, insomuch that the calm serenity of her every day existence can no more be ruffled by storms, and griefs, and troubles such as we have related in these pages—a few words more, and all will be told; but many who close the book will forget that such things have been, yea, and will be to the end of time. |