Year: 1874

=. C., L IL y IoDI
to q land where, he doubted not, her errors
were all forgiven, and her tempcst-tossed soul
safely anchored at peace and rest forever.
For him, he felt, there could be no more joy
or gladness on earth; the lesson he had re-.
ceived was too solemn and impressive one
ever to be effaced from his mind; the conse-
ouence of his sin and folly too terrible ever to
be forgotten. But in the midst of his remorse
and grief arose some salutary thoughts, and
purposes of a higher life; and a faint, half
formed prayer ascended from his heart that
he might be enabled in the future, through
Gods help, to conquer his weakness and the
temptations which so easily beset him, and
by leading purer and better life, to atone, in
some degree, for the errors of the past. One
long, soft tress of glossy hair, and one white
flower that lay on her breast, he took as
mementoes of this sad episode of his life; and
With farewell kiss upon the brow of the
dead, he returned to his room, inexpressibly
saddened and humbled, yet not without profit
from his bitter experience-the bitterest he
had ever known.


A few words more concerning one or two
other characters in my story, and it is done.


Col Holingwood, after continuing in a
somewhat precarious state for several days,
at length recovered sufficiently to leave his
room, and to be wheeled on a couch into the
front parlor and piazza, where he would lie
placidly gazing out upon the lawn, or watch
ing his granddaughter as she sat near him
with her work. He was never fully informed
of the circumstances Of the housekeeper's 8
death, or told the secret she had so carefully
preserved, for the doctor considered it exped.
ent to avoid all exciting subjects, lest they
should have an injurious effect upon his mind /;
indeed he appeared to take but little interest
now in anything but the objects Immediately
surrounding him, and as long as he had Elli-
nor by him, and missed none Of the daily COM
forts which his illness rendered necessary, did
not concern himself about anything outside of
this limited sphere. His left side was almost
useless, and his speech slightly impaired,
though there were times when he could speak
with his wonted clearness, and even showed
some indications of returning bodily strength.
Ellinor became more than ever to him min
istering angel, attentive to his every wish, and
lavishing upon him even fonder caresses than
in former times, when he had been less help
less and dependent upon her care.


"Nelly," he said to her one day, "l've been
thinking more than ever, lately, dear, about
your future when I'm taken from you. God
knows when it will be; but it must be before
very long, and I would be very happy, dear,
to see you married to some good man before l
CO."


A burning blush arose to Ellinor's face; !;
she bent over her work for some moments IN
silence, but at last her desire to set his mind
at rest conquered the reluctance she felt to
betray her own feelings, and kneeling at his
side she Whispered


"Would it please you to know, Grandy, that
there is some one who cares for me, and wants
me to be his wife-and that he is a good man,
and one who I know will make me happy"


And then she told him little secret which
it is time for my readers to know, also, since
it so intimately concerned her future life.


There was a certain clergyman; quiet and
studous man, the pastor Of country church,
who had since her childhood regarded her
with feeling as near approaching alteration
as religion would permit him to bestow upon
any earthly being. But though rich in spir-
itual graces and spiritual lore, he was, like
most country clergymen, poor in this worlds
goods, and for this reason his worship was
from afar; for he was too high-minded to risk
the imputation of seeking her for the sake of
her fortune, and he knew that his profession
would not protect him from the shafts OF In
vidious tongues. Apart from this, he could
not assure himself that he had found any fa-
vor in her eyes, beyond the natural esteem in
which she held him for the sacred calling ne
had ever striven earnestly to adorn. He lit
tie dreamed that in her maidenly heart,
scarcely acknowledged to herself, there slum-
bered preference for him which, it needed
but fitting advance on his part to bring to
light, while at the same time, in her exalted
appreciation Of his character, she deemed him
too far removed from her ever to bestow
thought on her unworthy self!


1t happened, just about the time OF the re-
cent occurrences at Hollingwood which have
related, that an uncle Of this clergyman,
rich and childless widower, died, leaving to
his nephew considerable portion of his for
tune. This secured him a handsome independ-
ence for the remainder of his life, and placed
him quite beyond all suspicion of interested
motives in making the choice of wife.


And now, with this weighty obstacle remov-
ed, his thoughts turned toward Ellinor-
when, indeed, had they been absent from her?
and he resolved boldly to try his fate, and
ask her to share, in prosperity, the existence
he would never have sought to link with hers
in poverty. He did not seek her, but he
wrote her letter, manly, straightforward
letter, telling her how long he had loved her,
and how earnestly he hoped she might deem
his affection not unworthy of a return. AS
Elinor read these words, glow of joy and
triumph filled her heart; but she felt that her
duty to her grandfather must outweigh every
other consideration while he lived, and not
even to become Edward Montague's wife
could she relinqush this sacred trust. This