owed labor of love for the needy and
grief-stricken. To-day, as he sat alone at the south window, he could
overlook the fields of "Grassmere," where the rich promise of golden
harvest "filled in all beauty and fulness the emerald cup of the
hills," and the waving grain rippled in light and shade like the
billows of some distant sunset sea. Basking in the balmy sunshine, and
contemplating his approaching departure for Europe, a sudden longing
seized him to look once more on the face of Vashti Carlyle, before he
bade farewell to his home.

She was in feeble health, and might not survive his absence,
and, moreover, what harm could result from one final visit to
"Solitude,"--from a few parting words to its desolate mistress? She
had sent a message through Robert, that she would be glad to see
Dr. Grey whenever he could find leisure to call, and now hungry
heart and soul cried out savagely,--

"Why not? Why not?"

His heavy brows knitted a little, and his mouth grew rigid as iron,
but after some moments the lips relaxed, and with a sad, patient
smile, he repeated those stirring words of Richter to Herman,--"Suffer
like a man the Alp-pressure of fate. Trust yourself upon the broad,
shining wings of your _faith_, and make them bear you over the Dead
Sea, so as not to fall spiritually dead within."

"No, no, Ulpian Grey,--keep yourself 'unspotted from the world.'
Strangle that one temptation which borrows the garments of an angel
of light and mercy, and dogs you, sleeping and waking. I will see her
no more till death snaps her fetters, and I can meet her in the
presence of God, who alone can know what separation costs me. May He
grant her strength to bear her lonely lot, and give me grace to be
patient even unto the end, bringing no reproach on the sacred faith I
profess."

It was the final struggle between love and duty, and though the
vanquished heart wailed piteously, exultant conscience, like Jupiter
of old, triumphantly applauded, "Evan, evoe!"

CHAPTER XXXIII.

"Wanted!--Information of Salome Owen, who will confer a favor on her
friends, and secure a handsome legacy by calling at No. -- ----."

"Dr. Grey, for six months this advertisement has appeared every
morning in two of the most popular journals in Paris, and as it has
elicited no clew to her whereabouts, I am reluctantly compelled to
believe that she is no longer in France."

Mr. Granville refolded the newspaper, and busied himself in filling
an