ices than theirs."

And thus the long-severed friends met in reversed positions; and if
something of triumph did flash from Lilian's eyes, as she saw her
husband, day after day, procuring from the Emperor's favor, privileges
for Mr. and Mrs. Walker, not often enjoyed by strangers, her triumph was
for him, and may be excused.

After eight years spent in Russia, during which he had acquired fortune
as well as fame, Michael Grahame returned to America, with his wife and
three lovely children, and retired to a beautiful country seat within a
mile of Mossgiel, purchased and furnished for him during his absence.
His father still cultivates his garden, though he has ceased to sell its
produce, and through those flowery walks Lilian and her husband still
delight to wander, recalling the happy memories with which they are
linked, with grateful and adoring hearts.

"I shall never object again to any woman in whom I am interested,
marrying the man of her choice, because he is only a mechanic," said
Mrs. Trevanion to her husband, as they were returning one day from a
visit to Mr. and Mrs. Grahame.

"There, my dear, in those words, _only a mechanic_, lies our mistake,
the world's mistake, in such matters. No man is _only_ what his trade,
his profession, or his position in life makes him. Every man is
something besides this, something by force of his own inherent personal
qualities. By these the true man is formed, and by these he should be
judged."

CHAPTER XII.

Again we were all assembled in the parlor in which so many of our
cheerful evenings had been spent, but a shadow seemed to have fallen on
our little circle. The New-Year was now close in its approach, and
immediately after the commencement of the New-Year we must separate. Mr.
and Mrs. Dudley, with their children, and Mr. and Mrs. Seagrove, with
theirs, and Mr. Arlington and I, must all leave within a day or two of
each other, and a year, with all its chances and changes, will probably
intervene before we meet again. The very thought, as I have said, threw
a shadow upon us; but Col. Donaldson, who is a most inveterate foe to
sadness, would not suffer us to yield unresistingly to its influence. If
our time was short, the greater the necessity for crowding enjoyment
into its every moment, he said: we could spare none of it for
lamentations.

"Now, Aunt Nancy," he continued, "if I am not mistaken, you can match
Mr. Arlington's story with one quite as romantic,