en turning thence, her eyes met the bridegroom's,
and the tears were all smiled away--when, in that one rapid interchange
of looks, spoke all that holy love can speak to love, and with timid
frankness she placed her hand in his to whom she had just vowed her
life,--a thrill went through the hearts of those present. Vaudemont
sighed heavily. He heard his sigh echoed; but by one that had in its
sound no breath of pain; he turned; Fanny had raised her veil; her eyes
met his, moistened, but bright, soft, and her cheeks were rosy-red.
Vaudemont recoiled before that gaze, and turned from the church. The
persons interested retired to the vestry to sign their names in the
registry; the crowd dispersed, and Vaudemont and Fanny stood alone in
the burial-ground.

"Look, Fanny," said the former, pointing to a tomb that stood far
from his mother's (for those ashes were too hallowed for such a
neighbourhood). "Look yonder; it is a new tomb. Fanny, let us approach
it. Can you read what is there inscribed?"

The inscription was simply this:

TO W--
G--
MAN SEES THE DEED
GOD THE CIRCUMSTANCE.
JUDGE NOT,
THAT YE BE NOT JUDGED.

"Fanny, this tomb fulfils your pious wish: it is to the memory of
him whom you called your father. Whatever was his life here--whatever
sentence it hath received, Heaven, at least, will not condemn your
piety, if you honour one who was good to you, and place flowers, however
idle, even over that grave."

"It is his--my father's--and you have thought of this for me!" said
Fanny, taking his hand, and sobbing. "And I have been thinking that you
were not so kind to me as you were!"

"Have I not been so kind to you? Nay, forgive me, I am not happy."

"Not?--you said yesterday you had been too happy."

"To remember happiness is not to be happy, Fanny."

"That's true--and--"

Fanny stopped; and, as she bent over the tomb, musing, Vaudemont,
willing to leave her undisturbed, and feeling bitterly how little his
conscience could vindicate, though it might find palliation for, the
dark man who slept not there--retired a few paces.

At this time the new-married pair, with their witnesses, the clergyman,
&c., came from the vestry, and crossed the path. Fanny, as she turned
from the tomb, saw them, and stood still, looking earnestly at the
bride.

"What a lovely face!" said the mother. "Is it--yes it is--the poor idiot
girl."

"Ah!" said