intervals between each breath became longer.

One

came, and the watchers listened in vain for the next, -his spirit had passed away. There was no loud wail of grief, as the now fatherless daughters raised the widowed mother from her knees; and after one long, fervent kiss on the pale brow, she consented to leave the room.

However long or however short the illness has been, the dawn of the day, after all is over, must always bring a pang which can never be forgotten. The returning light seems to make us realize the blow that has fallen-the world is going on its way as usual, but a great light has gone out, and the darkness left is so intense that you cannot see through it; and then, generally, the first days of sorrow are so sadly broken in upon by those most painful but unavoidable details attending a death in the family.

The friends whom the Eversleys had made since their arrival, kindly undertook to spare them in every possible way, by making every necessary arrangement. The funeral took place in two days, as is always the case in foreign countries, and Mrs. Eversley and her daughters were present. The attendance or non-attendance at the funerals of those one loves is one of those

points on which there must always be a great difference of opinion. To some it conveys no comfort, and the ceremony altogether is more than they can bear to go through. To others, it is full of comfort and satisfaction. And this was the case with Mrs. Eversley and her daughters. It seemed to them as the seal laid upon their past lives, as the realization of the earthly remains being sown in corruption and raised in incorruption; and as they slowly walked back from the cemetery, a holy peace seemed to pervade the house.

On hearing the news, many of their relatives and friends were loud in their lamentations that such an affliction should have fallen in a foreign land, with no familiar faces round to share their grief.

In one way, Mrs. Eversley was spared much. She had her children, and with them she needed no others; and she could indulge in the quiet luxury of grief, which to so many is impossible.

How difficult it is in London to draw the line who to see and not to see. What endless interruptions of inquiries, notes, near relations, and intimate friends— so many who will consider themselves aggrieved by not being admitted to give the consolation which each considers himself best entitled to administer.

It was such a peaceful comfort to Mrs. Eversley to wander in the Quinta garden, and to have no cares to attend to. They would all come in due time; but she would be the more able to bear them after a few weeks. It soothed her to look at what her husband had admired; and she and her children were never weary of talking over every detail of those last days.

How they were to return was the question now. The usual steamers which convey winter visitors home would not touch for two months or more. The only hope was, that some homeward-bound ship might put into Funchal accidentally. It was a great relief to Mrs. Eversley that she had no choice in the matter. She loved to linger on, where her last days of happiness had been spent the natural beauty of the Island seemed hallowed to her in the thought that it was what he had last looked upon; and she gratefully accepted the sympathy offered to her by those who a few months ago were unknown to her.

It is seldom that a sorrow falls without a silver lining to the cloud; and in Madeira, often as the residents are called upon to mourn with those that mourn, the well of sympathy seems never exhausted.

I

CHAPTER VIII.

RETURNING HOME.

ABOUT a fortnight after Mr. Eversley's death, a message was sent from the Consul, to say that an American barque had come in that morning on its way to Gibraltar, and that he understood she had comfortable accommodation for passengers.

Mrs. Eversley instantly wrote to say she should be glad of any information that could be obtained about the vessel, adding, that she was so utterly ignorant on the subject, that she must be entirely guided by his advice. The kind old man called the next day to say that he had made every inquiry, and all he had heard was satisfactory. The captain was an experienced man, who had crossed the Atlantic forty times; the accommodation was very fair; and as no one else wished to leave Madeira so soon, they would have it all to themselves.

The vessel would, if the wind was fair, reach Gibraltar in three days; and from thence the Peninsular and Oriental steamers would take them on to England in five or six days more. She would remain some days in Funchal, which would give Mrs. Eversley ample time to prepare.

"I think we cannot do better," she said to her daughters, with a deep sigh; "we ought to go home as soon as we can. And yet, what a pang it is to think of leaving this place, and returning to all the realities of our desolation!"

The berths were secured. Mrs. Eversley's last walk was to the English cemetery. What affecting records are there to be seen of the loss of husbands, wives, sons and daughters, cut off in the prime of life, in the midst of usefulness !

It is unquestionably a great trial of faith to acquiesce that all is right, when we see the strong, the useful, the talented, cut suddenly down; and the old, the useless-and how many that are worse than useless-left living: no one knows why.

"The Chairees will sail this afternoon, and my boat will be ready on the beach to take you on board," was the Consul's message on the last morning.

It was truly the beginning of sorrow.

Hitherto all