nion had in it less of earth than heaven. Not until, seated beside
each other, with their hands still fondly clasped, Philip had heard from
Emily's lips the history of her hopes, her fears, her prayers, and her
despair; and she, while listening to the sad incidents of his life, had
dropped upon the hand she held many a kiss and tear of sympathy, did
either fully realise the mercy so long delayed, so fully accorded now,
which promised even on earth to crown their days.

Emily wept at the tale of Lucy's trials and her early death, and when
she learned that it was hers and Philip's child whom she had taken to
her heart, and fostered with the truest affection, she sent up her
silent praise that it had been allotted to her apparently bereaved and
darkened destiny to fulfil so blessed a mission. "If I could love her
more, dear Philip," said she, while the tears trickled down her cheeks,
"I would do so, for your sake, and that of her sweet, innocent,
suffering mother."

"And you forgive me, then, Emily?" said Philip, as both having finished
their sad recitals of the past, they gave themselves up to the sweet
reflection of their present joy.

"Forgive? Oh, Philip! what have I to forgive?"

"The deed that locked you in prison darkness," he mournfully replied.

"Philip!" exclaimed Emily, "could you for one moment believe that I
attributed that to you?--that I blamed you, for an instant?"

"Not willingly, I am sure, dear Emily. But, oh, you have forgotten that
in your time of anguish, not only the obtruding thought but the lip that
gave utterance to it, proclaimed how you refused to forgive the cruel
hand that wrought you so much woe!"

"You cruel, Philip! Never did I so abuse and wrong you. If my unfilial
heart sinfully railed against the cruel injustice of my father, it was
never guilty of such treachery towards you."

"That fiendish woman lied, then, when she told me that you shuddered at
my very name?"

"If I shuddered, Philip, it was because I recoiled at the thought of the
wrong you had sustained; and oh, believe me, if she gave you any other
assurance than of my continued love, it was because she laboured under a
sad error."

"Good heavens!" ejaculated Philip; "how wickedly have I been deceived!"

"Not wickedly," replied Emily. "Mrs. Ellis was in that instance the
victim of circumstances. She was a stranger among us, and believed you
other than you were; but, had you seen her a few weeks later, sobbing
over her