the happiness of being blest in a parent's love. But
now all these hopes were extinguished; and, while she wept over them in
bitterness of heart, she yet bowed with pious resignation to the decree
of heaven.

CHAPTER XXVII

"Shall we grieve their hovering shades,
Which wait the revolution in our hearts?
Shall we disdain their silent, soft address;
Their posthumous advice and pious prayer?"

YOUNG.

FOR some months all was peaceful seclusion in Mary's life, and the only
varieties she knew were occasional visits to Aunt Grizzy's, and now and
then spending some days with Mrs. Lennox. She saw with sorrow the
declining health of her venerable friend, whose wasted form and delicate
features had now assumed an almost ethereal aspect. Yet she never
complained, and it was only from her languor and weakness that Mary
guessed she suffered. When urged to have recourse to medical advice she
only smiled and shook her head; yet, ever gentle and complying to the
wishes of others, she was at length prevailed upon to receive the visits
of a medical attendant, and her own feelings were but too faithfully
confirmed by his opinion. Being an old friend of the family, he took
upon himself to communicate the intelligence to her son, then abroad
with his regiment; and in the meantime Mary took up her residence at
Rose Hall, and devoted herself unceasingly to the beloved friend she felt
she was so soon to lose.

"Ah! Mary," she would sometimes say, "God forgive me! but my heart is
not yet weaned from worldly wishes. Even now, when I feel all the vanity
of human happiness, I think how it would have soothed my last moments
could I have but seen you my son's before I left the world! Yet, alas!
our time here is so short that it matters little whether it be spent in
joy or grief, provided it be spent in innocence and virtue. Mine has
been a long life compared to many; but when I look back upon it, what a
span it seems! And it is not the remembrance of its brightest days that
are now a solace to my heart. Dearest Mary, if you live long, you will
live to think of the sad hours you have given me, as the fairest, of
perhaps, of many a happy day that I trust Heaven has yet in store for
you. Yes! God has made some whose powers are chiefly ordained to comfort
the afflicted, and in fulfilling His will you must surly be blest."

Mary listened to the half-breathed wishes of her dear old friend with
painful feeling