unite your hearts, amid all this estrangement, this separation by human law-think of the holy time when you were all in all to each other, when even death, the death of your little boy, was borne with composure, because your husband's strong, yet submissive words, imparted comfort to your heart, as you gave up one object of affection, only to love the remaining object more fervently.”

"Spare me, Harriet," again pleaded the wretched woman, "had you only been here, this cruel parting might have been avoided. But Charles is not the same being as when you left us, he seemed to be restless, dissatisfied, unhappy, and to what cause could I impute it, but to a lack of affection? His evenings, too, have nearly all been spent away from home, for several months, leaving me, as he knew, without a single resource against solitude, for, Harriet, you were the only friend I loved dearly, and you were far away,-and you well know I am an orphan, without the kindly tones of a brother's or sister's voice to cheer me,-and Charles had been to me father, mother, brother, sister, all the world. Cousin Walter, however, has never deserted me, but has done what he could to make my solitude less tedious, has procured for me the best legal advice, and generously fitted up this tenement for my reception and comfort."

"Cousin Walter !" almost angrily exclaimed the generally mild and candid Mrs. Fessenden. "I never fancied Walter Parker. Depend upon it, dear Elma, he has, unknown to yourself, slily infused prejudices into your mind against your husband. You were too much absorbed in love's idolatry at the time of your marriage to perceive that your cousin was very much chagrined at that step, that he loved you as much as his selfish nature would allow him to love, and that he has always disliked, ay, hated your husband. I saw all this at the time, but would not disturb your happiness by the recital. Now, Elma, as you look back, can you not see it?"

"I cannot look back, Harriet, to the past year with pleasure, nor to the future with any thing of hope in my heart. Now that you have spoken so candidly, I feel that my imagination has magnified little things, trifling acts into crimes, -but, indeed, Harriet, excitable as I am, I am not wholly to blame. Should you see Charles, I think you will agree with me in that respect. As for cousin Walter, I never fancied him much more than you did, although I did not suspect him of loving me. But now I do see that much of his advice tended indirectly to wrong feeling

on my part towards my husband, and left me quite a favorable opinion of himself. But there was something in Charles' conduct so unlike himself, that I cannot pretend to account for it even now. So coldly distant, so formal, that in the excitement of my feelings, I proposed a separation to which he did not object, and which by Walter's aid and counsel, has been effected. But I am miserable. All of my cousin's arguments cannot get me into society, or induce me to receive visitors. Of course, I cannot refuse to see him, although from the light I now have, I shall never again place trust in him. Oh! Harriet, how unhappy I am. I was informed, yesterday, that our once pleasant mansion," here her voice trembled with emotion, "is closed, and Charles gone from the city to spend a long time. He was generous to the very last, dear Harriet, insisting upon my acceptance of that splendid home. It would have killed me to have stayed amid the scenes of my former bliss, and so I declined, especially as my own fortune is sufficient, with economy, to support me the few remaining years, perhaps months of my existence."

"Do not speak so despairingly, Elma," said her friend, much moved, "my home shall be yours, for I know you can enjoy yourself better with my husband, myself and children, than you can here. And when in a few months we again visit Paris, you must promise to go with us."

Mrs. Fessenden added a few more soothing words, then embracing her friend, she pursued her way with sad thoughts, towards her own blessed home of peace and affection.

CHAPTER II.

"DEAR Arthur," said Mrs. Fessenden, as she seated herself by her husband's side soon after her return, "what a sad being is poor Elma. What a change for herself and husband from unshadowed bliss to a public separation. They are both to blame. I doubt not Elma, I know, with all her high and lovable qualities of mind and heart, is passionate and wilful at times, and so exacting of her due share of love from all her friends, and especially from her husband. But how Charles Vinton can have become tyrannical and fault-finding, an absentee from home and hearth, as Elma said he had, is a mystery I cannot fathom, calm, rational, self-possessed, as he always was, unless that crafty Walter Parker, her second cousin, is at the foundation of

it; and I verily believe he is mean enough to do any thing on earth for the sake of gain or gratifying his low passions."

Why, Harriet, you are very much excited," said Mr. Fessenden, as he gazed into the generally mild countenance of his wife.

"I know it, Arthur, but the sight of poor Elma, separated from her husband, with no protector but her cousin Walter, has completely unnerved me, for I can imagine what my own feelings would be, were I so situated, and I have offered her a home with us."

"That was right, Harriet, and moreover, it was judicious and kind, just like yourself. I think it is proper to keep her away from Walter's influence. A union with him would be the climax of her misery, for I well know he is a man without a spark of true benevolence; and charity and nobleness of mind, are only assumed to gain his ends. I have long regarded him as unprincipled, and yet capable of easily putting on the guise of feeling, virtue, and noble, even religious thought, when any wished for object was to be attained by those means. Undoubtedly, he has done his share in the separation. I knew, when we at the same time were law students, by an incident or two, that he loved Elma; but it seems, never anticipating a rival, he had thought himself secure of her favor and ultimate acceptance, until the news of her marriage, in his absence, with the wealthy and accomplished Mr. Vinton, came to him. I presume he has never forgiven Vinton, and that this separation is the result of his revenge."

"But he shall have a counter influence at work on Elma's mind, when I get her established in our household," said Mrs. Fessenden with an air of triumph.

"How earnest and determined you look, Harriet. I trust, in your encounter with Mr. Parker, you will not provoke him to separate us."

Mrs. Fessenden turned toward her husband and gave him such a look, so blended with dignity, candor, feeling and affection, as if she had said, "there is no fear on that head," and then, with an excuse to him for running away, she went immediately to arrange and prepare an apartment for Elma, with her own hands, and when completed, every detail was perfect, as far as friendship and affection could make it.

Soon after Mrs. Fessenden's departure, Mr. Walter Parker was ushered into Elma's presence, and was much surprised to find her in tears. The old memories conjured up by her friend's 's presence, the tide of deep love still surg

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ing in her breast for her husband; the many many acts of affectionate devotion received from Charles, which she now sadly and tenderly recalled, had completely banished the demon of pride from her bosom, although it had sustained her nobly until Mrs. Fessenden had revealed to her, her own feelings so truly, and given a clue to the motives by which her cousin was actuated. Now, she received him with aversion-his presence was insupportable. "My dear cousin," he said in that low, winning tone, he so well knew how to assume, "I have called today, to give you a long ride into the country for your health. The roses must again bloom on your cheeks, Elma. Do not allow yourself to grieve over the late transaction-rather rejoice that you are relieved from the presence of one so uncongenial to your dear self."

"I am not able to ride out to-day," was poor Elma's truthful and only reply, while she labored hard to restrain the truant tears.

Mr. Parker had never seen her in such a mood, so thinking his presence would not act as a restorative, he seated himself very familiarly by her side on the sofa, and taking her hand, he said in a bland tone, "Dear Elma, you must have seen that you are unspeakably dear to me, not only from the peculiar interest I take in your misfortunes,"--here he sighed deeply, "but also from the pure love I bear you, which hourly increases. Now, will you not give me the fondly pleasing hope, that it is in some measure reciprocated? That I may, ere long, become your legal, acknowledged protector?"

Had a thunderbolt burst on Elma's head, she could not have been more shocked and surprised than she was to find the sedate cousin, so much her senior, actually making love to her! Yes, Harriet was right; and now many things connected with her cousin were seen in their true light, and drawing away her hand from her cousin's, indignantly, she replied in a hollow, unnatural voice, Walter Parker, do you think the love I bore Charles Vinton, is so easily extinguished, although the law has thrust us apart? Do you think my heart is such a wavering, unstable shadow, that it can so soon cast aside the love of years to make room for another love? No, Walter, No!" And with flushed cheeks and dilated eyes, Elma Vinton swept out of the apartment with the grace and majesty of a queen, leaving her cousin to chew the bitter cud of reflection, and to rave over the disarrangement of his plans, his precious lost time, his still more precious money;-for in reality he was

very miserly, although he had lavished large sums to fit up the present residence of Elma, thinking himself secure of ultimate success in his suit, which he felt had been prematurely urged. Still he did not give up the idea of winning Elma for his bride, eventually; and he gave a complacent look in the mirror, which revealed the reflection of a handsome man in the prime of life, arrayed in the most costly and fashionable style.

"She will get over this whim," he murmured to himself, as he left the house, and sprang lightly into his beautiful equipage. But the next morning a note was handed him which completely dispelled all his imaginary visions. It ran thus, in Elma's laconic, business style:

MR. PARKER: After what passed between us yesterday, it will be highly improper for me to intrude any longer upon your hospitality; therefore, I have left for the purpose of residing with my friend, Mrs. Fessenden, whose husband will remunerate you for whatever trouble and cost you have incurred on my account.

ELMA, after spending a few months in the bosom of Mr. Fessenden's charming family, was at length prevailed upon to accompany them to the metropolis of France, where Mrs. Fessenden had relations;-as they all saw that she would pine away in constantly viewing scenes so nearly connected with her former bliss. She was very pale and attenuated, and the little hope, which had at first played around her heart of seeing Mr. Vinton and having a full explanation of the past, was about expiring, for he was still a wanderer from his home, having never returned to his splendid, yet desolate mansion. Mrs. Fessenden, who was a calm, strong-minded woman, had a great influence over Elma, who yielded, although reluctantly, to her, as regarded appearing in society. There was someVOL. XX. 2

thing of pleasure, however, for her desolate heart in their morning rides and promenades around Paris and its environs, and also, in visiting works of art. They were, one morning, sauntering leisurely in a gallery filled with rare and beautiful paintings, and Mr. and Mrs. Fessenden had wandered off from Elma, who, weary of gazing at so much beauty, had taken a low seat and was busily occupied with pencil and paper; while forgetting all else but her deep sorrow, she allowed the tears to flow without restraint. At that very moment, she, herself, would have made a good study for a painter. Her simple bonnet, falling off in the employment of writing, revealed her clear, white forehead, the silky, brown hair which curled on each side of her pale, sweet face, and the knot of beautiful braids which shaded her neck. A rich, dark, plain dress, adorned her small figure, while her deep, blue eyes were slightly upturned with a mournfully sad expression, -a true picture of her soul. There was another visitor, a tall, intellectual looking gentleman, the sadness of whose black eyes rivalled that of Elma's, who, on pretence of examining a picture, watched her most intently, although he did not allow her to catch a glimpse of his face. Indeed, she was so absorbed in thought, she knew not of his presence. Upon the approach of Mr. and Mrs. Fessenden, he glided away, apparently in great haste. As they came towards Elma, she wiped away all tears and rejoined them in such haste that she left the fruit of her musings on paper near where she sat, which was appropriated by the tall gentleman to himself, as soon as they left, and which, after reading several times with manifest emotion, he kissed and deposited in his pocket-book. Elma's lines ran thus:

FOUR years ago, I sat with thee

In home's own sweet, domestic bower, When love's bright bird e'er carolled free, And gladness winged each passing hour.

I sat with thee in joy and pride,
The breath of flowers upon my brow,
I was a gay and happy bride ;-
Now I am lone, and where art thou?
And when our only bud of love

Was sleeping in the narrow tomb,
Did'st thou not say "he dwells above
In gardens of the blest to bloom?"
In that dark hour thou weit my all,

The only tie on earth to bind :—

And think'st thou when the oak doth fall, The ivy other prop will find?

'Tis even thus-I cannot stay

In this dim sphere without thy smile

Oh, Father! hasten me away

From sorrow's dart, from pleasure's wile.

Methinks upon my grassy bed

Thy tears will fondly, gently rest, As thou, by memory's voice art led

To muse on home so loving, blest,

When to the music of our hearts

We trod life's pathway blithe and free, And deemed not that the hour which parts Would ever come to me and thee.

But it did come-and weary, sad,

I fain beneath the sod would lie, For in my dreams, thy tones, so glad, Are whisp'ring "we shall meet on high !"

ELMA.

They had not proceeded far on their homeward way, before Elma discovered that she had lost the lines which she had so hastily scrawled, and unwilling to leave them to the cold and careless gaze of the first one who might pick them up, she retraced her steps, and was bending over the spot where she had written thembut her search was vain, they had disappeared. As it was now past the usual hour of admittance, Elma thought herself alone, for she saw no one upon entering-and therefore she sat down to rest herself awhile, leaning her head upon her hands. She started suddenly upon hearing "Elma" uttered in a low, sad tone-yet it was a tone dear as life itself-the music of which had never left her heart, in all of her sorrow. She turned-Charles was kneeling by her side, and with a cry of joy, forgetting that they were twain, she wound her arms around his neck, laid her pale cheek close to his, which was wet with her joyful tears.

"Forgive me, dearest Elma," were the first words Mr. Vinton could utter.

"Forgive me, my own Charles," was her sole reply.

It was a fitting place, alone amid pencilled forms of beauty, for Charles Vinton and Elma to recall the blended shapes of the past,-to extract the sweet from the bitter,-to affiance themselves anew in all of their former devoted love, ay, more, in the serene and perfect strength gathered from trial and affliction. "And so," said Elma, as she raised her head from Charles' shoulder, after a full and perfect

explanation on her part, "Walter Parker was, as Harriet thought, at the foundation of all our difficulties. How little I thought that every word, every look I bestowed on him, the only living being with whom I could claim affinity, was made to appear in your eyes, as if I had always loved him and still loved him secretly. How blinded you must have been, Charles, to have believed it and absented yourself from home!"

"But, dear Elma, was he not there every evening with his bland and winning speech? And I, fool that I was, believed what he caused me to be informed was the fact, that there was a long, mutual attachment between you. And then he wore your ring, and triumphantly paraded a handkerchief which he said you gave him. Turning my eyes from all your past devotion and exceeding love, I believed it a falsehood, without any evidence, and deeply wronged you. Say again, Elma, that you forgive me."

"I, too, need forgiveness, for all my excitability, wilfulness and unbounded exaction of affection. But, Charles, you did deceive yourself almost willingly. The ring was taken out of my work box, and I knew not what became of it, for I assure you he never wore it in my presence-and as for the handkerchief, it was handed him with some cologne on it, one afternoon, when he complained of a bad head-ache, and said he had forgotten his own. I was never made acquainted with his love for me, and indeed never dreamed of such a thing, until the day that Mrs. Fessenden arrived at home, when he called soon after she left me, and honored or dishonored me with the offer of his hand. I gave him an appropriate reply, and sent him a note the next morning, declining his hospitality, and referring him to Mr. Fessenden, if he had any account against me."

"I have been very unjust to you, Elma. I heard by the way of a friend, that your stay at your cousin's establishment was short. Indeed, your staying under his roof, drove me away from home."

"What other relative had I, Charles? And he seemed to be so interested in my misfortunes, offered me a home in such a delicate manner, even while he still remained at a boarding house that I, for a time, accepted. Now, I see through his villainy, and shall treat him as he deserves. I have not seen him, however, since I became an inmate of Mr. Fessenden's family, for he was well aware that they understood his character."