especially of the old trees that bore so many raging blasts and fell not. So true seems nature, in the closing year, to the sad sorrows of her children, that we ask companionship and sympathy of her, when we dare not ask it of our brothers and sisters in affliction.

And it seemed already to be the closing season of the year, for after a splendid summer came an early autumn, with pelting rains and slashing winds, so wild and merciless in their destruction, that Ella's little garden lost its beauty long before the accustomed time; and instead of that rich grouping which constitutes the splendour of autumnal beauty, the flowers and leaves, still gay and green, lay scattered on the ground, while pools of water glistened here and there upon the gravel walks; and the stream, so lately murmuring on its course with soft and silvery sound, now rolled a foaming torrent past the stems of the old trees, which seemed to tremble on its banks.

These were dark days for Ella, but she rather liked that they should be so. She liked to have the excuse of this tempestuous weather for looking sad, and shivering, as she often did, while fever crept along her veins. She liked the excuse of the cold for withdrawing early from her mother's endless prattle, and retiring to bed, though not to sleep. No, she had almost ceased to sleep altogether; she had ceased to work, she had ceased to read. There was only one thing which she did with regularity, and in her accustomed manner. That was to send exactly at one moment every day for her letters from the post, and to wait to receive them exactly in the same place, with the same attitude and look; only, if they happened to be a moment later than usual, to snatch them in a more hurried manner from the bearer, and to devour with her eyes more hastily the separate address of each.

At last a letter came. hand of her messenger with tolerable composure. She was able to command herself until that messenger had retired. But then her strength failed, her knees trembled, she could only totter to a seat, where, clasping her hands together, she looked up and

Ella was able to receive it from the

uttered an ejaculation, which should have been uttered long before, for it was a prayer to her Father in heaven, that he would give her strength to sustain whatever might be in store for her.

What a change was this, in the short space of three weeks! What a change from the beautiful and happy being who used to dispense smiles and blessings wherever she went, herself the centre alike of love and joy. What a change to the poor, trembling, unsupported creature, whose white fingers quiver over and above the folded letter, which they seem to have no power to open! Yet such is woman. Ah! what has she to do on earth but to sit beside her saviour's feet; even to bathe them with her tears, for where else can she find peace or safety?

So shattered and feeble was Ella's whole bodily and mental frame, that when the letter was opened, and when its pages lay before her, she did not seem to gather distinctly, or at once, the real nature of its contents. It began affectionately, almost rapturously-that was a matter of course-and the expressions made use of read a little like words of course. It was shorter than Arthur Grahame's letters had usually been, and much of it was occupied with excuses made on the ground of the long detention of her own precious letter at Hanley Park. But the most serious portion related to money difficulties, now pressing closely on every hand. This was to be expected, but how to escape them, or what to do, were questions that looked more alarming on paper than Ella had contemplated. Indeed, she had never, up to this moment, realised what would be the consequence of her own sacrifice of property, if she should venture upon a second marriage, especially with one who was himself not only penniless, but deeply plunged in debts from which there seemed no possibility of his ever escaping. The prospect opened upon her now, and with such frightful reality-for this was the portion of the letter which had been written, both with the greatest strength of language and the greatest directness-the prospect opened upon her now, and she seemed, indeed, but too likely to have need of all her heroism, as well as

all her patience and humility, to enable her to meet the inevi table results of her own decision.

The letter was is no respect satisfactory, nor was it at all what Ella had expected. It seemed empty of what she wanted, and full of what she did not want; for she had no business tastes or habits, and she was already wearied out with more money claims than she could meet. In fact, she was already in debt herself to her best friend, Mr. Stevens, and yet this letter contained a most urgent request, that the writer might be permitted to apply to him in her name, to solicit the loan of some five or six hundreds more.

Yes, there were sharp agonies in that letter for her who had waited for it so long; waited for it with such yearning tenderness, such deep earnestness of soul, that her peace, her health, her very life had almost ebbed away in the long interval before it came. Yet no one seemed to be in fault, for how could she blame him? She knew beforehand that he must be penniless, and worse, if the trial should go against him; and it was, in great measure, out of the pity which these considerations called forth that her love and her tenderness had grown. Had he stood upon the same footing with other men, she would never have interested herself so deeply on his behalf; he would not have needed either her help or her compassion, and the ambition of being all to him would never have been awakened in her breast. Was she then so weak as to shrink back now-now when the worst had really come-when the blow had fallen, and when hope and comfort from every other quarter had utterly failed? What, if the letter did sound empty to her ear, empty in comparison with her full heart, there were excuses in abundance to be made for him. She had made them before on every possible occasion, even when others blamed him most. Then why not now?

Ah! even here Ella might have learned a lesson in knowledge of herself; even here she might have read some deep truths, had not her eyes been blinded by tears of sad tenderness that would not let her see; for hitherto her excuses had been