the interesting widowed bride elect.

"Yes. And you will find her a most interesting young person--devoted to
good works, one of the excellent of the earth. When she was here, two or
three years ago--in the same season that she was engaged to our honored
and lamented Governor--she was quite famous for her charities."

"Oh, indeed!" again aspirated Miss Crane, glancing at Mrs. Grey.

"I am sure that you will be mutually pleased with each other, and, as
she has declared her intention to make Richmond her permanent residence,
I should not wonder if she also should make your pleasant house her
permanent home," added the lady.

"Much honored, I'm sure," said Miss Crane, with a mixture of hauteur and
complacency that was as perplexing as it was amusing.

"And now, if you please, we will rejoin your sister and Mrs. Grey," said
the rector's lady, rising and leading the way to the front windows, near
which the other two ladies were sitting.

The end of all this was that the Misses Crane engaged to take Mrs. Grey
as a permanent boarder, only asking a few days to prepare the first
floor front for her occupation.

No arrangement could have pleased Mary Grey better than this, for she
wished to remain at the hotel a few days longer to receive the calls of
her old friends, who would naturally expect to find her there, as she
had given that address on the cards that she had left for them.

So it was finally arranged that Mrs. Grey should remove from the hotel
to the Misses Cranes' on the Monday of the next week.

Then the two took leave, and the rector's lady drove the widow back to
her hotel and left her there.

The next day Mrs. Grey had the gratification of hearing from the cards
she had left at the different houses of her old acquaintances. Several
ladies called on her and welcomed her to the city with much warmth.

And on the Saturday of that week she had a surprise.

The Rector of St. John's paid her a morning visit, bringing a letter
with the Charlottesville postmark.

"It came this morning, my dear madam. It was inclosed in a letter to me
from Mrs. Wheatfield, the esteemed widow of my late lamented friend,
Bishop Wheatfield," said the rector, as he placed the letter in her
hand.

She thanked the reverend gentleman, and held the letter unopened,
wondering how Mrs. Wheatfield could have found out that she was in
Richmond.

When the rector had taken his leave, she opened her letter and read: