"And thou wilt let me go, Minnie,
I'll shine more brightly far;
I'll whisper love to thee, Minnie,
From evening's silver star:

"And thou wilt love it, too, Minnie;
It's sweetly cheering ray
Will steal into thy heart, Minnie,
And chase the pain away.

For it will speak of me, Minnie,
What I was once to thee;
Will tell you what I was, Minnie,

But never more canst be.

"'T will tell thee what I

am,

And what I aye shall be,

Minnie,

And what thou wilt be, dear Minnie,

When I have come for thee.

"So wipe away thy tears, Minnie, And kiss me once again,

And lay thy heart to mine, Minnie,
To ease its throbbing pain.

'And when thou missest me, Minnie,
Miss Laurie in thy home,
Then think of what I say, Minnie,
From out yon starry dome.

"The brightest star you see, Minnie,
The fairest of the night,—
From that I'll speak to thee, Minnie,
Of my high home so bright.

"I'll tell thee what I see, Minnie,
When thou art all alone;
I'll tell of those we love, Minnie,
Around the rainbow throne.

"I'll speak of one we love, Minnie,
Of one who lived on earth;
That one who loved us, too, Minnie,
Of her who gave us birth.

"My eyes will not be dim, Minnie,
All sorrow there shall flee,
For God will wipe my eyes, Minnie
And Laurie there will see.

"And I'll watch o'er thee, Minnie,
Thy guardian angel be,

And guide thee, too, at last, Minnie,
Where grief and sorrow flee.

Press thy dear lips to mine, Minnie,
My love I ne'er can tell;
But it will speak in this, Minnie—
Blind Laurie's last farewell."

Gracie avoided Minnie's glance for a long time, but her fervent kiss and whisper, after she had read it, told her deep love for her wild, beautiful, gifted Gracie. Minnie read it to them all at twilight, that hour they

loved so much! Each kissed Gracie silently, and she felt that there was more of tenderness for days in their manner towards her.

They missed the little only brother in their twilight talks. Their father sometimes joined them, but they felt his presence a restraint; and he seemed to feel it too, and that hour he spent alone. The piano was not opened; no one could bear it.

now how father felt.

was!"

Gracie said, "I know

How thoughtless I

The children stayed at home and recited to Minnie. Their father proposed it, and Miriam gratefully accepted the charge. She was lonely.

Thus the autumn passed away, and deepened into winter.

XIII.

Anna at Home.

NNA'S home was as attractive as wealth and refined taste could make it; both nature and art combined to render it delightful. The house was built of stone. It was of but two stories; and ivy crept over it, and fine old trees shaded it. A grassy lawn in front of the house extended even to the water's edge. It had been in the possession of the Mertons many years. Merton Manor, as 'twas called, was pointed out to every traveller as the oldest and finest place in the county.

The first week after Anna's return she was busy thinking of her new resolve, and she thought so much of it that she forgot to execute her purpose. Anna's greatest fault was self-confidence; and often, like Peter, she would "weep bitterly" after an exhibition

of it. But she was distrusting herself more daily, learning that her own strength was "perfect weakness." She was "growing in grace," and she rejoiced.

Her father seemed care-worn and anxious, and her mother had lost much of her gayety, and passed most of her time in her own room. Her father came home later every night, and often Anna could hear his footsteps in his room before daylight, and she knew he had not slept. Ralph told her the cause of the change. Their father had engaged deeply in speculations, and now his all was at stake. It was kept from Anna by her fond parents. They did not wish to cloud her youth with their vexations; they would come soon enough of themselves.

One morning Anna went to her mother's room; she had just had a long conversation with her husband, and was looking pale and dispirited.

"Are you ill, mother?"

"No, my daughter; but my head aches.”