he knew, and
upon this his wife enlarged, that she should be allowed considerable
recreation.

When, therefore, Rusha Lisle came in to take the niece's place,
insisting upon the latter taking a ride or drive, her uncle would join
in the request, and Althea was compelled to go. Nor was it such a
hardship. Thornton was ever ready to accompany her. And now, in presence
of this guileless girl, he did, indeed, seem transformed. He was
attentive, kind and gentle, he hastened to comply with her every wish,
to anticipate all.

For the first time in his life, he put a curb upon his violent temper.
He became kind, even to his horse and his dog--when in _her_ presence.
Discovering her taste for poetry, he sat up nights to commit to memory
whole pages of her favorite Scott and Moore, Bryant and Longfellow,
which he would repeat to her with exceeding force and appropriateness.

Thornton's voice was as contradictory as the rest. It could be soft or
harsh, musical or discordant. To Althea it was only pleasant and gentle;
and, by degrees, came to possess for her a wonderful charm.

Mrs. Lisle, so disagreeable to all others, had practiced remarkable
effort and self-control in making herself agreeable to this young girl,
whom she would fain help to draw within her son's meshes.

Mr. Lisle's first letter to his son, to which we have referred, was not
his last. But every missive, more earnest than the former, met with the
fate of the first. Every day he waited anxiously for the coming of the
mail. It seemed all that interested him. It was pitiful to see his daily
disappointments, the dying out of every renewed hope.

This constant alternation of hope and despair, with constant suspense,
shortened his days.

He died suddenly at the last, his expiring gaze upon the portrait of
Ellice that, as of old, still hung over the mantle.

Did Mrs. Lisle, in presence of death itself, experience no scruple in
having kept the son from his dying father? Would she ever feel remorse
of conscience in this world, or in the next? At all events, she
expedited in every possible manner the wooing and winning of Althea. Was
there in Heaven no guardian angel for this motherless child? Was not her
very name suggestive of protection from above? Had Della's last prayer
on earth failed to reach the throne of Grace and Mercy?

No obstacle appeared in the way, after the only one was removed by
death. Thornton began to talk about a return to his northwestern ho