ory seemed to make
A mournful rustling in the dark.'"

Attracted by the rhythm, which softly beat upon the air like some
muffled prelude striking only minor chords, Mrs. Lindsay came to the
hearth, and with her arm resting on the girl's shoulder, stood
listening.

"How dearly my Douglass loved those lines."

"And on the night before he died, Mr. Hargrove repeated them, asking
me afterward to select some sweet solemn sacred tune with an organ
accompaniment, and sing them for him. But what music is there that
would suit a poem, which henceforth will seem as holy as a psalm to
me?"

"Perhaps after a while you and I may be able to quiet the pain, and
set it to some sweet old chant. Just now our hearts are too sore."

"After a while? What hope has after a while? It cannot bring back the
lost; and does memory ever die? After a while has not given me my
mother; after a while has not taught me to forget her, or made me
more patient in my waiting. After a while I know death will come to
us all, and then there will be no more heartache; but I can't see
that there is any comfort in after a while, except beyond the grave.
Mrs. Lindsay, I do not wish to be wicked or rebellious, but it seems
very hard that I must leave this dear quiet home, and be separated
from you and Mr. Lindsay whom I dearly love, and go and live in a
city, with that cold, hard, harsh, stern man, of whom I am so much
afraid. He may mean well, but he has such unkind ways of showing it.
You have no idea how dreadful the future looks to me."

She spoke drearily, and in the fitful flashes of the firelight the
young face looked unnaturally stern.

"My dear child, you must not despond; at your age one must try to see
only the bright side. If I expected to remain in America, I would not
give you up without a struggle; would beg your mother's permission to
keep you until she claimed you. But I shall only wait to learn that
Douglass has arranged for my arrival. As you know, my sister and
brother-in-law are in Egypt, and if I were with them in Cairo, I
could hear more regularly and frequently from my dear boy. I wish I
could keep you, for you have grown deep into my heart, but my own
future is too uncertain to allow me to involve any one else in my
plans."

"I understand the circumstances, but if mother only knew everything,
I believe she would not doom me to the care of that man of stone. Oh,
if you could only take me across the ocean, and let