d, on
thy life and death! Yet that silent tear of old Isaac's outspoke a
thousand eulogies! It told of all thy kindness, charity, love, angelic
purity of heart, and called thee "Guardian Angel" of the house of
Hamilton.

Night found Florence sitting alone in the parlor of her old and dearly
loved home. The apartment was much as she had left it five years
before, and old familiar articles of furniture greeted her on
every side. She sat down to the piano, on which in girlhood she had
practised, and gently touched the keys. The soft tones, waking the
"slumbering chord of memory," brought most vividly back the scenes of
other days. Again she stood there an only cherished daughter, and her
father's image, as he used to stand leaning against the mantel-piece,
rose with startling distinctness before her. And there, too, stood her
cousin, with the soft blue eyes and golden curls of her girlhood; and
she fancied she heard, once again, the clear, sweet voice, and felt
the fond twining of her arms about her. Long forgotten circumstances
in primitive freshness rushed upon her mind, and unable to bear the
sad associations which crowded up, Florence turned away from
the instrument, and seating herself on the sofa, gave vent to an
uncontrollable burst of sorrow--

"Oh! what a luxury it is to weep,
And find in tears a sad relief!"

And calmly Florence wept, not bitterly, for she had had much of sorrow
to bear, and schooled her heart to meet grief and sadness. Yet it was
hard to come back to her cherished home and miss from her side the
gentle playmate of her youth, the parent she had almost idolized, and
feel that she had left them in far distant resting-places. She heard
her husband's step along the hall, and saw him enter--she strove to
repress her tears and seem happy, but the quivering lips refused to
smile. He sat down, and drawing his arm around her, pressed her face
to his bosom, and tenderly said:

"My mother had much to say, after my long absence, and I could not
leave her till this moment My own heart told me that you suffered, and
I longed to come to you and sympathize and cheer."

"Do not think me weak, Mr. Stewart, because you find me weeping. It is
seldom I give vent to my feelings, but to-night I am overwhelmed with
recollections of the past. Oh! now, for the first time, I realize that
Mary has indeed gone forever. Mary! Mary! my heart aches already for
you, and your warm unchanging love! Oh! how can I look fo