t for the dark waving hair that fell
upon her pillow, and shaded her snowy neck. Dame Elliot took up the
infant from its little wicker cradle, and held it towards Edith, saying
gently--

'Look up, my Edith, and bless the little being that God has given to
call you back to life and happiness.'

_'Happiness!'_ murmured Edith. 'That word has no meaning for me! Duty
is my only tie to life.'

But she did look up; and as her eyes were long end fondly fixed on the
unconscious features of the child, her own sweet look of gentleness
rose into them again, and she raised her feeble arms, as if to take the
infant.

'And he will never see her,' she whispered. 'He will never look on his
child in this world.'

Elliot thought that hope might now be given without danger; and he took
her wasted hand in his, and said--

'Edith, you have had much sorrow, and it has nearly brought you down to
the grave. But can you bear to feel the agitation of hope? Can you
listen calmly while I tell you that some tidings of your husband have
reached us, and that he was certainly alive after the time when you
believed him dead?'

He paused, and looked anxiously to see the effect of this sentence; and
he was almost awed by the expression of Edith's countenance. It was not
agitation--it was not joy--it was not trembling uncertainty. But it was
a look of concentrated mental power and endurance, and of speechless
inquiry, that seemed to say, 'Now utter my sentence of life or death,
and do it quickly!'

Dame Elliot could not bear it. Bursting into tears of deep emotion, she
beat down and imprinted a kiss on Edith's cold brow, while she
exclaimed, in broken accents--

'Yes! it is true, dearest Edith. You may live--and live, we hope, for
happiness as great as has ever been your portion.'

'O, my God!' cried Edith-'this is too much!--too much of joy for one so
weak and faithless. But tell me, my friends--tell me all. I can bear it
now.'

Gently and gradually Elliot prepared her for the blissful certainty of
her husband's safety; and when he found that illness had not greatly
weakened her natural strength of mind, and that she could bear the joy
that awaited her, he gave her Roger's own letter, and felt assured that
the tears she, at length, shed at the sight of his hand-writing, would
relieve and calm her over-burdened heart.

In this he judged truly; for, though Edith was greatly exhausted after
this strong excitement, yet she passed a tranqu