presence,so that if a stranger had come to reside
among us, he would never have known that
we had suffered such a loss; yet we all waited
with aching patience, hoping from day to
day to receive some letter or token ot her
whereabout. Every morning, with renewed
hope, old Mark went down to Heatherslack
alone; and although he never told us where
he was going, we knew that his visits
were to the post-office; every morning he
returned, downcast and silent, and longing
for the morrow. For six months he went,
and never missed a day; at the end of that
time, he put on a suit of mourning, and went
no more.

About this time I determined to leave
Grayrigg Grange. My present life had
become distasteful to me; the future held
out no attractive prospect; and I felt like
one in bondage who must break his chains or
die. The desire of travel took possession of
me; the unrest of an unquiet heart, sick of
the dull routine of daily duties, and longing
to find amid distant scenes a balm for all its
ills. Glowing accounts of that new world
beyond the sea, every day developing some
new wonder, reached me by fits and starts,
even there; sometimes from a near relation
of mine who had gone to America; sometimes
from the newspapers. I read all the
books of travel I could procure that bore on
the subject; and at last I determined to go
and visit it for myself.

"What! and thou too, lad? " said Mark,
when I broke my project to him. "Art thou
also going to leave us? Well: these are
times of change and portent. Surely the
latter days spoken of by the Prophet are
drawing nigh; all things are becoming
unstable; and the lust of gold is devouring
the hearts of men. Beware of that vile
passion, Thurston! Give not thy soul in
bondage to the glittering demon; and may
an old man's blessing go with thee, wherever
thy steps may tend!"

"I commend your resolution," said Grace,
when I told her that I was going. "You
have fretted too long against the bars of this
poor cage. Go! Liberty and a wider range
of action will remake you, and strengthen
you in every way. But, Thurston, do not
forget those you leave behind! Remember
the old man and his daughter; who will not
forget your name in their nightly prayers;
and who will often, often think of you. And,
Thurston, if you can find time to write us a
few lines now and then, I need not say how
happy we shall be to receive them; though
if we should never hear from you, nor see
you again, we can never think of my dear
lost sister without remembering you too."

There was a soft humid light in her eyes as
she said these words; and from that time till
the day of my departure it never left them.
She seemed often strangely absent in mind,
too, during these few weeks, as though deeply
communing with herself; and yet she did
not seem unhappy, but had a smile ever
ready, both for her father and for me. There
was the handwriting on the wall, in
characters faint but clear; but my eyes were
filmed so that I could not read it.

I have hitherto related my story as an
eyewitness of its incidents. I have now to
relate circumstances which happened apart
from me, and which I did not learn till long
afterwards: how I learnt them may be
gathered from the sequel.

After my departure, matters, to all
appearance, went on as usual at the Grange;
but, those who knew Mark Hurlstone well,
began to note that the old man was changing
for the worse. His sermons were no longer
so vigorous or so eloquent as of yore. He
frequently repeated himself; and had strange
lapses of memory, which astonished those
who were accustomed to hear him. His
thick black hair was fast becoming thin and
gray; and he could no longer walk far, without
resting by the way. At home he would
sit of an evening for hours together, staring
blankly at the fire, and never uttering a
word; but Grace knew well where his
thoughts were. One day, during the succeeding
winter, he was suddenly taken ill. He
was confined to his bed for several weeks;
but eventually he recovered, and went about
again much as before, except that he looked
older, and stooped more. When the doctor
whom Grace had called in, made his last
visit, he took her on one side before leaving
the house. " It is my duty to tell you," he said,
looking very grave, "that your father will
never be the same man that he was before
this illness. He will require constant
watchfulness at your hands. You must keep his
mind as quiet and free from care as possible.
Above all things, do not let him become
excited, or I cannot answer for the consequences."

Two years had elapsed since Letty's flight
when one day, towards the end of the year,
Grace received a letter from her. It was
dated, London, and ran us follows:

"MY DEAR SISTER.—Necessity compels me to take
up my pen and write you these few lines, which I hope
will find you well, as also my dear father. I did
intend never to write to you, or let you know in what
strange place your lost Letty had striven to hide her
disgrace; and were it not for my child—for I have a
child, Grace, as beautiful as an angel—you would never
have heard from me more. But I cannot bear to see
my baby pining away with cold and hunger. My
money is all gone; I have parted with my few things,
one by one, till I have nothing left but the rags that
cover me; and now they threaten to turn me into the
street because I cannot pay the rent of my garret; and
then what will become of my poor babe this bitter
weather? Grace, I have no resource but you. I ask
not to come home—I do not wish to disgrace you by
my presence— but send me some money, Grace, for we
are starving; and O, send me a few kind words, for my
heart also is hungry! How does my dear father bear it?
Is he well? Is he happy? O, how the old times come back
to me in dreams and visions by night, when I used to