t was still unprepared.

He was speaking one day of the future, anticipating the time when the
Rectory would receive her as its gentle mistress, and of the many things
which occupied his thoughts for the furtherance of her comfort, when
Mary laid her hand gently on his arm, and, with a smile of peculiar
sweetness, said--

"Do not think any more of such things, my beloved; the mansion which
will behold our blessed union is already furnished and prepared; I may
seek it first, but it will be but to render it even yet more desirable
to you."

Herbert looked on her face to read the meaning of her words; he read
them, alas! too plainly, but voice utterly failed.

"Look not on me thus," she continued, in that same pleading and soothing
tone. "Our mansion is prepared for us above; below, my Herbert, oh,
think not it will ever receive me. Why should I hesitate to speak the
truth? The blessed Saviour, to whose arms I so soon shall go, will give
you strength to bear this; He hath promised that He will, my own
Herbert, my first, my only love. My Saviour calls me, and to Him, oh,
can you not without tears resign me?"

"Mary," murmured the unhappy Herbert, "Mary, oh, do not, do not torture
me. You will not die; you will not leave me desolate."

"I shall not die, but live, my beloved--live, oh, in such blessedness!
'tis but a brief, brief parting, Herbert, to meet and love eternally."

"You are ill, you are weak, my own Mary, and thus death is ever present
to your mind; but you will recover, oh, I know, I feel you will. My God
will hear my prayers."

"And He will grant them, Herbert--oh, doubt Him not, grant them, even in
my removal. He takes me not from you, my Herbert, He but places me,
where to seek me, you must look to and love but Him alone; and will you
shrink from this? Will that spirit, vowed to His service from your
earliest boyhood, now murmur at His will? Oh, no, no; my Herbert will
yet support and strengthen his Mary, I know, I feel he will. Forgive me
if I have pained you, my best love; but I could bear no other lips than
mine to tell you, that on earth I may not live--but a brief space more,
and I shall be called away. You must not mourn for me, my Herbert; I die
so happy, oh, so very happy!"

Herbert had sunk on his knees beside her couch; he drooped his head upon
his hands, and a strong convulsion shook his frame. He uttered no sound,
he spoke no word, but Mary could read the overwhelming anguish that
bowed