heart that was all her own. Each day she felt more grateful for the providence which had ordered all events in her life; and time passed on without any further change than that of making them all older, Mrs Hervey, Eleanor, Amy, and Fox, there was no exception. Ronald, too, now and then paid them a visit; and he and his little niece in their games of play made Holly Lodge re-echo with sounds it had never heard when Eleanor and Mrs Hervey lived alone. Eleanor's health had on the whole been very good, but during one of these visits from Ronald, she caught a violent cold, which left behind it so much weakness, that change of air was recommended. Adela at once wrote to beg she would come to them, and knowing she would not like to leave her post unfilled, proposed that one of her party should take her place. Charlotte would willingly do so, and would carefully study every wish of Mrs Hervey's. The old lady quite came into the plan, and Eleanor, who felt she needed a change, gladly accepted the offer. Amy was to go with her, that she might see her father; and at the end of a week Charlotte arrived at the Lodge, while Eleanor, with her little charge, went to Redleigh, where she had not been for many years. The time that had passed during her absence was more marked there than in her own home; even "the singing bird" was now a tall girl of seventeen, the other two quite young women. "Look at my children," said Adela. "How old I must be, Eleanor; do you not see wrinkles and grey hairs ?" And the person addressed begs she will not unpleasantly remind her that they shall have to begin spectacles together. Miss Flyn, now that her work at the Edgertons was accomplished, had gone to reside with a widowed sister, but was often to come to them, having been too faithful a friend to lose sight of; George was learning business in earnest at his uncle's; Henry just then at sea; Amy was a favourite with all; and Adela and Eleanor were happy in being together again, hearing and telling all their respective news. Eleanor, however, still regularly taught Amy, and walked out with her every day. Adela observed that, more than once when they happened to go alone, Mr Hervey had met them, and accompanied them home; but she knew too well how many topics of interest there must be between them to feel surprised. One day, however, their conversation in the garden, while Amy was playing at some distance, was so long and earnest, that Adela began to think something unusual must be passing, and to feel a small, a very small, amount of curiosity. Eleanor came in looking exceedingly calm and composed, and merely remarked that she "had had a long walk in the garden with Mr Hervey." Adela thought she need not have told her what she already knew so well; but she would not allow herself to be cross, so she answered gently that she had seen as much. "Yes," said Eleanor, beginning to untie her bonnet and take off her gloves, as if by way of doing something. "What a good man Mr Hervey is; I really feel quite sorry for him." "He is a truly good man, Eleanor; but what has happened, anything new ?" "Oh no, nothing new. He was only telling me how dull the rectory was; and that he should like to have Amy back again, only he did not know how to manage it. Would you have believed it is nearly five years since her mother's death ?” It was getting dusk, it might be the fading light, or was Adela paler than usual? But she spoke at once : "I understand; and he has asked you to see what you can do to help him in the difficulty." "Yes; but, Adela," she exclaimed, suddenly looking at her, "what is the matter? No; you do not understand at all, I see;" and going up to her, she laid her hand on her shoulder. "It is your opinion, not mine, that Mr Hervey wants on the subject, and I was only commissioned to say, he should come and talk to you about it himself tomorrow, if you do not forbid him. It will not be his first visit here on business." CHAPTER XIX. Changes and Chances of this Mortal Life. WE "If loving hearts were never lonely, They might be glad but not in Thee." -ANON. E have already remarked that we do not seek to chronicle the minutiae of each day, nor to dwell on every event, but only to open the book of life's history, wherever a brighter light than usual shall illuminate, or a cloud cast a shadow on its page. Therefore we beg our readers to imagine whether Mr Hervey ever paid his intended visit or not, and while well acquainted with the facts, shall make no record of them here. In the progress of our story, we have met with much that is pleasant and good, something of the reverse, and also of the sad. We will have a change. Come with us to the fresh country this bright spring morning; we will lead you to old haunts, to gaze on familiar faces, for there is a wedding at Redleigh, and we must be there. Let us stand at the church door, with the young and the old who are gathered together, for the village takes holiday to-day, to do honour to the pale bride. She is coming, and every heart throws a welcome on her path, with the flowers her school children are strewing before her. The blessing of many that were ready to perish is upon her head; and the widow's heart sings for joy to behold her; and we who have known her in the home she has so long brightened and sanctified by her maidenly purity, could almost regret to think she is to leave it at last. And thus she passes on, with her sister train behind her, till they stand before the altar; and we too will follow into the old church, and listen to the solemn words that shall be spoken, and the vows pledged which death only may sever, and Alfred Hervey and Adela Edgerton shall be made one. And the merry bells shall peal out from the grey tower with its ivy mantle, and the bright sun shall be shining on this morning of merry May, and the good and the true shall go forth together, and we shall keep one dried leaf from our bouquet (itis a secret who gave it to us), in memory of her we once knew, and shall see no more, the gentle and the loving Adela Edgerton. Many things shall this morning bring to pass. Sunshine shall come back to the Rectory, Amy shall have a mother again; the poor and the desolate find there a well-known friend. Ronald shall think the youngest bridesmaid looks very pretty, |