she; he
very handsome and young, and she past thirty. Matches more incongruous
have been made, and with less apparent reason, and this needs no farther
explanation on her side. They are married now, and about to leave the
church. The young man turns as he passes out (amidst the congratulations
of his friends), attracted by scarcely suppressed sobs; but the cloaked
figure from whom they proceed does not move, and he recognizes her not. It
is Edith, and Mordant, as he gazes on the scene before him, sees Happiness
standing afar off, afraid to approach too near to any one of the party,
but still keeping her eyes fixed on the pale young mourner at that bridal,
who, bowed down with grief, sat there until the clock warned her to go, as
the doors were being closed. The married pair (after a month spent abroad)
settles down at Langford; and the husband--was he happy now? No, not
yet--but expecting to be from day to day, hoping that time would alter for
the better what was wanting to the happiness of his home; but time flew
on, and, regardless of his hopes, left him the same disappointed man that
it found him--disappointed in his wife, in his expectations of
children--feeling a void in his heart which money was inefficient to
supply. The drama was drawing to a close; Mordant felt that the present
time had arrived. His wife was dead, and he in possession of every thing
which had been hers, but still an anxious, unsatisfied mind prevented all
enjoyment of life; but yet one more scene, and this time Mordant was
puzzled, for he did not recognize either the place or the actors.

On a bed on one side was stretched the figure of a young woman. Her
features were so drawn and sharpened by illness, that he could not recall
them to his mind, although he had an idea that he ought to know her face.
She was very pale, and the heat seemed to oppress her, for in a languid
voice she begged the lady (who was sitting by her side) to open the
window. She rose to do so, and then Mordant saw that the scenery beyond
was not English, for hedges of myrtle and scarlet geranium grew around in
profusion, and the odor of orange flowers came thickly into the chamber of
the dying girl. Raising herself with difficulty, she called to her
companion, and then she said,

"I know I shall not now get better; I feel I am dying, and I am glad of
it. My life has been a living death to me for some years. When I am dead I
would wish to be buried in England--not here--not