at room
plying her needle to obtain for her a subsistence. Her story, which came
to be known, procured her plenty of work; and the ten fingers, which
were sufficiently employed, sufficed for the wants of the
stomach,--small these wants, probably, in her who had heard of the
marriage of Walter with Agnes Ainslie; yea, she who could bear to hear
that intelligence might claim a right to be a pupil of Paul's school of
philosophy. Paul she indeed loved as a friend, but she never could bring
herself to the resolution of marrying the little artist. There was a
train of evils: the "croppings out" of her fate, as Paul called it, were
thick enough and to spare; for she fell into bad health, which was the
precursor of a fit of palsy, depriving her for ever of the power of
working for herself. Then it was that Paul's affection was shown more
clearly than ever. Day by day he brought her all the food she required;
but at length he himself was taken ill, and his absence was fatal. Pride
prevented her from making her necessity known to the neighbours, with
whom she had but little intercourse. We have told how she was found
dead; and when we say that Paul recovered to be present at her funeral,
we have only one fact more to state. It is this: Paul took the old
bureau home to his own little room, to keep as a memorial of the only
woman he ever loved. One day, when repairing the internal drawers, he
found in a hollow perpendicular slip, which looked like a broad beading,
a document which was thus entitled on the back:

LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT

BY

DAVID GRIERSON,

IN FAVOUR OF

RACHEL GRIERSON,

1776

LADY RAE.

During the time that Oliver Cromwell was in Edinburgh, a lady called one
day at his lodgings and solicited an interview. She was closely wrapped
up in a large and loose mantle, and deeply veiled. The former, however,
did not conceal a shape of singular elegance, nor mar the light and
graceful carriage of the wearer. Both were exceedingly striking; and if
the veil performed its duty more effectually than the mantle, by
completely hiding the countenance of the future Protector's fair
visitor, it was only to incite the imagination to invest that
countenance with the utmost beauty of which the "human face divine" is
susceptible. Nor would such creation of the fancy have surpassed the
truth, for the veiled one was indeed "fair to look upon."

On its being announced to Cromwell that a lady desired an interview with