rthily of you--to be _all_
that you have, in your more than charity, capacitated me to be.
Duncan, you will not forget me?

"I do not ask it. But pray for me, and live up to the fullness of
your being--of your heart and of your intellect. There is a happy
future for you. I have no word of counsel, no feeble utterance of
encouragement to leave you--you will not need such from _me_. God
bless and strengthen you in every good word and work--it shall be
the constant hope of the sister who _loves_ you. Mother, farewell!"

This letter was written on the Sabbath eve on which our story
opens--written in a perfect passion--yes, of grief, and of despair.
The anger that Rosalie may at first have felt, gave way to the
wildest sorrow now, but her resolution was taken, and her heart was
really strong to bear the resolution out.

After the sudden and most unlooked-for disappearance, the mother and
son sought long, and I need not say how anxiously, for Rosalie. But
their search was vain, and, at last, as time passed on, she became
to the villagers as one who had never been. But never by the widow
was she forgotten; and oh! there was in the world one heart that
sorrowed with a constant sorrow, that hoped with a constant hope for
her.

He had lost her, and Duncan sought for no other love among women.
When all his searching for Rosalie proved unavailing, the minister
applied himself with industry to the work of his calling, and verily
he met here with his reward; for as he was a blessing to the people
of his parish, in time they almost adored him. He was a spiritual
physician whom God empowered to heal many a wounded and stricken
heart; but there was a cross of suffering that he bore himself,
which could not be removed. It was his glory that he bore it with
martyr-like patience--that he never uttered a reproachful word to
her through whom he bore it.

As years passed away, the gifted preacher's impassioned eloquence,
and stirring words, bowed many a proud and impenitent soul with
another love than that he wished to inspire, still he sought not
among any of them companionship, or close friendship. They said, at
last, considering his life spent in the most rigid performance of
duty, that "_he was too high-church to marry_,"--that he did not
believe such union consonant with the duties of the cloth! But the
mother knew better than this--_she_ knew a name that was never
spoken now in Rosalie's old home, that was dearer than life to the