ION.

"As a fond mother, when the day is o'er,
Leads, by the hand, her little child to bed,
Half willing, half reluctant, to be led,
And leave his broken playthings on the floor,
Still gazing at them through the open door;
Nor wholly reassured and comforted
By promises of others in their stead,
Which, though more splendid, may not please him more;
So Nature deals with us, and takes away
Our playthings one by one, and, by the hand,
Leads us to rest so gently, that we go
Scarce knowing if we wished to go or stay,
Being too full of sleep to understand
How far the _unknown transcends the 'what we know._'"

"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now
I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."--1
Cor. xiii. 12.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER THE LAST.

AT ABBOT'S LEIGH.

The old year, which had been so full of trouble and sorrow, was passing
gently away in calm and unusual brightness.

The air was soft and balmy, and the sunshine lay upon the picturesque
village of Abbot's Leigh, and threw out every yellow lichen on the red
roofs of the houses, and every leafless branch of the trees in full
brightness and defined outline.

The year was full of grace and beauty on this its last day; and Gilbert
Arundel, walking up and down the sunny terrace path before his house, on
the left of the road leading to the church, felt the pleasant sense of
returning strength and health, which is always so sweet.

The garden was at the back of the house, and before him lay a goodly
prospect. The lowlands, sloping down to the mouth of the Severn, were
bathed in the sunshine, and beyond, in clear outline, was the great
encircling range of blue mountains on the opposite coast of Wales. In
the clear atmosphere of the winter morning, everything was distinctly
seen. The wooded headland of Portishead shot out to the left, and was
rounded at full tide by many ships, outward bound for the rolling waters
of the Atlantic.

Snowy gulls dipped and whirled on airy flight near the shore, and small
crafts, with all sails set, danced and curtseyed beneath them as they
made for the harbour.

"It is a place to rest and get well in," Gilbert thought; and then he
turned at the sound of footsteps.

His wife was coming through the maze of deep-set, box-bordered
flower-beds to speak to him.

"Mother and Piers will be here early," she said, putting her hand
thro