still. But, we will not speak
of her just now, Flora; I cannot bear it. Time, which reconciles us to
every change, will teach me resignation to the Divine will. But ah! 'tis
a sore trial to part with the cherished friend and companion of our
early years. We were most attached sisters. Our hearts were one--and
now--"

There was a pause. Both friends wept. Mary first regained her composure.

"How is Lyndsay? Has he finished writing his book?"

"The book is finished, and accepted by Mr. Bentley."

"That is good, excellent news; and the darling baby?"

"Little Dormouse. There she lies at the end of the sofa, covered by my
shawl. She has been sleeping ever since breakfast. I think she only
wakes up to amuse papa. But she is beginning to stretch herself, and
here comes the head-nurse himself."

"Our dear Mary, returned!" cried Lyndsay, entering the room. "It seems
an age since you left us."

"It has been a melancholy separation to me," said Mary. "This parting I
hope will be the last. My father has consented to come and live with my
brother; and now that dear Emily is gone, I shall have no inducement to
leave home, so you will have me all to yourselves, whenever I can steal
an hour from my domestic duties; and we shall once more be so happy
together."

Lyndsay looked at Flora, but neither spoke. Mary saw in a moment that
there was some hidden meaning in that quick, intelligent glance; and she
turned anxiously from one to the other.

"What mischief have you been plotting, during my absence?" cried the
affectionate girl, taking a hand of each. "Some mystery is here--I read
it in your eyes. I come to you striving to drown the remembrance of my
own heavy sorrow, that we might enjoy a happy meeting: I find Flora in
tears, and you, Lyndsay, looking grave and melancholy. What does it all
mean?"

"Has not Flora told you?"

"Told me what?"

"That we are about to start for Canada."

"Alas! no. This is sad news--worse than I expected. But are you really
determined upon going?"

"Our preparations are almost completed."

"Worse and worse. I hoped it might be only the whim of the moment--a
castle, not of the air, but of the woods--and as easily demolished."

"Let us draw back," said Flora. "Lyndsay, dearest; the trial is too
great."

"It is too late now, Flora. Depend upon it, love, that God has ordered
it, and that we act in conformity to the Divine will, and that all is
for the best."

"If such is your belief, my