s of the day, and as we walked out, fell
into a fit of gloomy musing.

"Poor Mary!" at length broke, with a heavy sigh, from his lips.

"And what of her," asked I, "has anything happened to her?"

"What," said he, darting an impatient glance, "is it nothing to be
reduced to this paltry situation--to be caged in a miserable cottage--to
be obliged to toil almost in the menial concerns of her wretched
habitation?"

"Has she then repined at the change?"

"Repined! she has been nothing but sweetness and good humor. Indeed, she
seems in better spirits than I have ever known her; she has been to me
all love and tenderness and comfort!"

"Admirable girl!" exclaimed I, "You call yourself poor, my friend; you
never were so rich--you never knew the boundless treasures of excellence
you possessed in that woman."

"Oh! but, my friend, if this first meeting at the cottage were over, I
think I could then be comfortable. But this is her first day of real
experience: she has been introduced into an humble dwelling--she has
been employed all day, in arranging its miserable equipments--she has
for the first time known the fatigues of domestic employment--she has
for the first time looked around her on a home destitute of everything
elegant--almost of everything convenient; and may now be sitting down,
exhausted and spiritless, brooding over a prospect of future poverty."

There was a degree of probability in this picture that I could not
gainsay, so we walked on in silence.

After turning from the main road, up a narrow lane, so thickly shaded by
forest trees as to give it a complete air of seclusion, we came in sight
of the cottage. It was humble enough in its appearance for the most
pastoral poet; and yet it had a most pleasing rural look. * * * * * Just
as we approached we heard the sound of music--Leslie grasped my arm; we
paused and listened. It was Mary's voice singing, in a style of the most
touching simplicity, a little Scotch air of which her husband was
peculiarly fond.

I felt Leslie's hand tremble on my arm. He stepped forward to hear more
distinctly. His step made a noise on the gravel walk. A bright beautiful
face glanced out at the window and vanished--a light footstep was
heard--and Mary came tripping forth to meet us. She was in a pretty
rural dress of white; a few wild flowers were twisted in her fine hair;
a fresh bloom was on her cheek; her whole countenance beamed with
smiles--I had never seen her look so