"we ought to be prepared for it. Earth is not our
_resting-place_. We should never forget that. Should we, dearest?"

"No, love; but earth has happiness of her kind, of which her children
are most sensible. Whilst we are here, we live upon her promises."

"But oh, not to the exclusion of the brighter promises that come from
heaven! You do not say that, dear Caleb?"

"No, Ellen. You could not give your heart to him who thought so;
howbeit, you have bestowed it upon one unworthy of your piety and
excellence."

"Do not mock me, Caleb," said Ellen, blushing. "I have the heart of a
sinner, that needs all the mercy of heaven for its weaknesses and
faults. I have ever fallen short of my duty."

"You are the only one who says it. Your father will not say so, and I
question if the villagers would take your part in this respect."

"Do not misunderstand me, Caleb. I am not, I trust, a hypocrite. I have
endeavoured to be useful to the poor and helpless in our
neighbourhood--I have been anxious to lighten the heaviness of a
parent's days, and, as far as I could, to indemnify him for my mother's
loss. I believe that I have done the utmost my imperfect faculties
permitted. I have nothing to charge myself with on these accounts. But
my Heavenly Father," continued the maiden, her cheeks flushing, her eyes
filling with tears--"oh! I have been backward in my affection and duty
to him. I have not ever had before my eyes his honour and glory in my
daily walk--I have not done every act in subordination to his will, for
his sake, and with a view to his blessing. But He is merciful as well as
just, and if his punishment falls now upon my head, it is assuredly to
wean me from my error, and to bring me to himself."

The maid covered her moistened cheek, and sobbed loudly. I was fully
convinced that she was suffering from the reaction consequent upon
extreme joy. I was rather relieved than distressed by her burst of
feeling, and I did not attempt for a time to check her tears.

"Tell me, dear Caleb," she said herself at length, "if I were to lose
you--if it were to please Heaven to take you suddenly from this earth,
would it not be sinful to murmur at his act? Would it not be my duty to
bend to his decree, and to prepare to follow you?"

"You would submit to such a trial as a Christian woman ought. I am sure
you would, dear Ellen--parted, as we should be, but for a season, and
sure of a reunion."

"And would you do this?" enquired the