est, though wherefore I hardly know;
my lot is cast in a way so different from that she imagines. The
precepts are for the promotion of happiness, which I can never expect to
enjoy--never to be cited as an example of connubial excellence. I shall
leave no record that people in after years will point at, and say,
Behold, how lovingly they lived together! But read it, Frances, read it:
to you it may prove salutary, for you will be happy in your union, and
with one whom you can love."

The Lady Frances took the letter with a trembling hand, and read as
follows:--

"Richmond, 1657, the 2d day of June.

"Your letter, which I had the happiness to receive some time
since, my dear young friend, notwithstanding its melancholy
theme, afforded me real satisfaction. It is true that your loving
mother has been removed; but blessed is the knowledge which
instructs you that she and all her excellences came from God, and
have now but been taken back to their own most perfect source;
that you are parted for a moment, to meet again for eternity! Her
soul conversed so much with God while it was here, that it
rejoices to be now freed from interruption in that hallowed
exercise. Her virtues were recorded in heaven's annals, and can
never perish: by them she yet teaches us, and all those to whose
knowledge they shall arrive. 'Tis only her fetters that have been
removed; her infirmities, her sorrows that are dead never to
revive again--nor would we have them: we may mourn for ourselves
that we walk so tardily in her steps, that we need her guidance
and assistance on the way. And yet, dearest Constance, but that
the veil of tearful mortality is before our eyes, we should see
her, even in heaven, holding forth the bright lamp of virtuous
example and precept, to light us through the dark world we must
for a few years tread.

"But I have heard tidings lately, and from the Lady Claypole too,
of which, methinks, to your mother's friend, you have been over
chary. Ah! maidens care not to prate of their love affairs to
matrons. Silly things! they would go their own course, and think
for themselves! without knowing how to go, or what to think! The
besetting sin of youth is--presumption: but it is not your sin,
my gentle girl; it was some species of modesty withheld your
pen--yet I heard it. My husband, albeit not a very frequent guest
at Whitehall, pays his