muttered words, and agony of heart and mind passing all expression! Papa broke from them, and summoned John. "My horse! Bring Fleet-I go to the city."

Fleet was brought, neighing and prancing, to the marble mounting-block, at the edge of the gravel walk. Papa was leaving the room, when his eyes fell on Miss Standish, who sat there, calm and still, with the large tears rolling silently down her pale cheeks.

แ Young lady," he said hurriedly, "have a care for these wretched people !" and sprang upon his horse and dashed away.

I was helpless, mad and dumb with grief and terror. All those wailing voices, the deafening roar, the lurid glare, the drenching, the terror and dismay of the late fearful storm, seemed repeated in tenfold fury. I seemed in the midst of it, living it over again, it was so mixed and mingled with my present woe. I saw nothing clearly-I cannot well remember how the time sped. It was a weary time I know—but at last I heard a voice of prayer, of pleading-it seemed a dark cloud parted and an angel's face looked out. It was the face of my mother. Then I dropped silently out of pain, and was in heaven with her.

After many days papa returned; but so utterly unlike himself, that a great cry rose up in my soul, which I suddenly hushed down into a quivering sob. I dared not add my grief to his, it was already too great for him to bear. To me he said little; to others nothing, saving the brief replies made to unavoidable questions. I did not attempt to console, I offered no caress, fearing that I should only give pain. Yet ever and always I could feel my mother's whispered prayer that I should comfort him.

How was this great and sorrowful event borne at Umberhurst? My uncle's fond and proud hopes laid low! Haidee's warm, young life forever chilled, clouded by the mournful death of her betrothed! Alas, who would make amends to him for this last, great disappointment--who should comfort her? Oh, not papa, and not I. Separately, but most

cruelly, were we paralyzed in action, intellect and love, by this stunning blow.

This was terrible! lost in amazement ! in blank despair! we were sinking into a state of stagnation, dying slowly down to the root! John brought an ominous looking letter from the post-office. Papa opened and read-his pale lips grew paler and quivered, as a tear slid slowly down and dropt upon his hand. Beckoning me to a seat near him, and putting the letter into my hands, he bade me read.

There was a note of a few lines from Lena, a heavier let ter from my brother Hermann's physician. He stated that my brother had not been well when he had written the letter informing Mildred that he could not be present at her wedding. He had grown rapidly ill, of one of those terrible southern fevers. As the day drew near on which he hoped for the arrival of his mamma and sisters, he rallied somewhat, only to sink again—and died on the 21st of September, the very night on which the Valpraiso went down, and with it all the fond hopes, the glory of my father's house.***

The days and weeks that followed, are covered with a pall-no hand so daring as to lift it, to look beneath. * * *

Miss Standish had kindly offered to go to Umberhurst, to bear our words of sympathy, then return to us. It was long since that sad day-many weeks had elapsed-winter was drawing near. Aunt Frances had been with her family to see us at different times: she was good and kind, and very tender in her attempted consolations; but oh, how vain were all these word nor deed could cure such wounds-only the Great Healer could ever bind them up.

The quiet autumn was slowly passing: winter was drawing near. The Hastings were soon to depart, making a short tarry at some of the West India islands, on their way to England. I must-I would see Haidee once before I parted from her forever. She would go to England; then to some far country. I must remain with papa. Oh! no-no,

we should never-never meet again!

There would be few to love us; we were two desolate and motherless little maidens ! * * *

I went to Umberhurst. Fan and Belle met me, looking sad, but kissed me many times, from pure sympathy and grief. Haidee had grown calmer, they said; but I saw that her great sorrow had made terrible ravages in her young face. In the first hours of her agony, she would not allow Miss Browne in her room, or near her.

So young, and all unschooled by sorrow, her impassioned nature burst forth in wild and frantic lamentations. She could ill brook those elegant and polished condolences. Bettine, her maid, attended her faithfully-attempting nothing, she served best with her mute kindness. Haidee, exhausted with her bitter crying, at night laid her poor aching head in Phillis's lap, and gathered in those tender arms, hushed upon that loving bosom, she sobbed herself to sleep.

Of late, too, she had learned greatly to confide in her cousin Leonora. It was a worthy trust. Beside a well-formed mind, Leonora had a good heart, pleasing manners, and a lovely face. Since Haidee's manifest aversion to her governess, her father and aunt Frances had seen the necessity of having her placed in the immediate care of a lady qualified to be her guardian and friend.

There was no one more fitted for this position than Leonora. So it was decided at once, and Miss Rapelje promptly made ready for a journey, that might extend over half the globe. And in these preparations Miss Georgina Browne gave efficient aid, and Sarah, the new parlor-maid, proved herself of inestimable value. She was a beautiful seamstress, could cut and fit a lady's dress with taste and elegance, and was in ecstacies amid velvets and merinos.

But Sarah, light-hearted as she now was, and generous as she had always been, was scarcely prepared for the blow she was about to receive through her affections. Haidee had set her heart upon taking Phillis away with her, to keep her always. She could not be denied ; indeed, the Rapelje's

thought this a wise measure, and Phillis was unspeakably happy with her prospect of being with, and watching, and tending the loving and most fondly-loved Haidee. But Sarah, with the work going on rapidly beneath her nimble fingers, would suddenly drop it, and go from the room for a few minutes, and then return, her eyes dried, but looking somewhat red. Yet withal putting forth her utmost skill in completing her sister's ward-robe, as this also required some considerable attention, and continually striving to congratulate her on her unlooked-for good fortune.

One alone, in that varied group, was in possession of most excellent spirits,-this was Miss Georgina Browne; for in lieu of having the education of the Indian Princess to carry slowly forward, she was to remain at Umberhurst, for a finishing process with the Misses Rapelje-Fannie and Belle. As previously stated, I went to Umberhurst.

My sad visit was made-I was soon to leave-was just saying a few last words to Haidec; she was holding my hands, looking fondly and mournfully up into my face.

"Dearest Haidee, I thank you for loving me so well. When I can see you no more, and amid all my suffering, I shall remember your dear little face. I shall think of our many and pleasant drives together. And, to-morrow, I will send over the dear little ponies." My poor cousin cried out, suddenly

"Stop. No more. The ponies are yours. I will never see them again. Do you know, the first time my eyes ever saw them-he-my Edgar-stood holding the reins, caressing their glossy necks,-and, dear Minnie, driving over that smooth, shaded way, ho told me he loved me. Oh, my lost Edgar!" And thus, in a passionate burst of grief, ended our parting words.

I was helpless to comfort her; but dear, good Phillis came laid her arms tenderly about that quivering formbore her to a seat in the piazza, and sat down.

Then the good creature turned that little, weeping face

upon her bosom, striving all the while to soothe this exceeding sorrow, with fondest words and gentlest ways, as tender mother warms and comforts her weary child.

My blessing I left with the good, true-hearted Phillis, for her tender care of this sweet, but broken flower.

Thus I parted from my cousin, and saw her no more. Uncle Hastings was grave, though affectionate in manner— said many kind things-promised to write, and wished me to write to him; yet our parting was sad. But it was over. They went down to the city the next day, and immediately embarked for Hayti, where they proposed spending the greater part of the winter.