I can be of service?" he asked. "I see
among the witnesses on the trial the name
of a young man who appears to have assisted
you in the enquiries which led to the
prisoner's conviction. Is he a relation?"

"No, sir—at least, not now—but I
hope——"

"What?"

"I hope that he may, one day, be the
nearest and dearest relation to me that a
woman can have." I said those words boldly,
because I was afraid of his otherwise taking
some wrong view of the connection between
Robert and me.

"One day?" he repeated. "One day may
be a long time hence."

"We are neither of us well off, sir," I
said. "One day, means the day when we
are a little richer than we are now."

"Is the young man educated? Can he
produce testimonials to his character? Oblige
me by writing his name and address down on
the back of that card."

When I had obeyed, in a handwriting
which I am afraid did me no credit, he took
out another card, and gave it to me.

"I shall leave England to-morrow," he
said. "There is nothing now to keep me in
my own country. If you are ever in any
difficulty or distress (which, I pray God, you
may never be), apply to my London agent,
whose address you have there." He stopped,
and looked at me attentively—then took my
hand again. "Where is she buried?" he
said suddenly, in a quick whisper, turning
his head away.

I told him, and added that we had made
the grave as beautiful as we could with grass
and flowers.

I saw his lips whiten and tremble.

"God bless and reward you!" he said,
and drew me towards him quickly and
kissed my forehead. I was quite overcome,
and sank down and hid my face on
the table. When I looked up again he was
gone.

* * * * *

June 25th, 1841. I write these lines on
my wedding morning, when little more than
a year has passed since Robert returned to
England.

His salary was increased yesterday to one
hundred and fifty pounds a-year. If I only
knew where Mr. Mallinson was, I would
write and tell him of our present happiness.
But for the situation which his kindness
procured for Robert, we might still have been
waiting vainly for the day that has now
come.

I am to work at home for the future, and
Sally is to help us in our new abode. If
Mary could have lived to see this day! I am
not ungrateful for my blessings; but, oh,
how I miss that sweet face, on this morning
of all others!

I got up to-day early enough to go alone
to the grave, and to gather the nosegay that
now lies before me from the flowers that
grow round it. I shall put it in my bosom
when Robert comes to fetch me to the
church. Mary would have been my bridesmaid
if she had lived; and I can't forget
Mary, even on my wedding-day.

THE SHADOW OF THE HAND.

    "How varied are life's flowery paths,
        With varied pleasures strown:
    But there, where duty points the track,
        Is happiness alone."

    Thus musing, as in fancy, far
        My footsteps seem'd to stray—
    Methought some strange mysterious power
        Impell'd them on their way.

    It was a shady path I trod,
        Yet beautiful to see;
    For there were flowers upon the turf
        And birds in every tree.

    I loved the flowers, their form, their hue,
        Their fragrance, faint and rare;
    I loved the birds, whose plaintive strains,
        Harmonious, fill'd the air.

    The clustering shadows of the trees
        Upon the ground were cast:
    They seem'd to change their forms, each time
        A breath of wind went past.

    Yet still methought,—as if the path
        Were some good angel's care,—
    The figure of a hand I traced
        Among the shadows there!

    A hand, that ever pointed me
        Along that peaceful way:
    A way so happy, strange 'twould seem,
        That I should wish to stray!

    Yet oft, too oft, I knew not whence,
        Gay sounds would reach mine ear,
    Of music, mirth, and revelry,
        And I would pause to hear:

    And through the trees, on either side
        That shady path, would gleam
    Bright eyes, and glittering forms,—such sights
        As happy lovers dream!

    And they would call in wily tones,
        That sounded sweet and low,—
    And wave to me their snow-white arms,
        Until I long'd to go.

    But, while the shadow of the hand
        Upon the greensward lay,
    I could not turn to right or left,—
        A charm was on the way!

    I felt, beneath that hallow'd spell,—
        New life my being thrill.—
    And all things lovely seem'd to take
        A lovelier semblance still.

    The air breathed purer,—from the flowers
        A rarer fragrance given,
    And through the leaves above I saw
        The blue and quiet heaven.

    All was so sweet within that path,
        I would not from it stray,
    And leave that shadow of the hand
        Heaven-sent to point my way.