upon her to remain with them another season, for as
much as she had become attached to them all, she longed to see her home
once more. Even Winnie failed to keep time with her usually joyous
spirits, and there was one to whom this parting was not to be thought
of. Mr. Delwood had as yet received no positive assurance, that his
unmistakable sentiments towards Natalie were reciprocated, and yet he
was confident that she regarded him with no common interest. He had read
it in her soul, but he would hear from her own lips if happiness or
misery was to be his through life, and it was with a nervous step that
he wended his way on this last evening of her stay in Boston, that he
might hear his fate. As he drew near the house, he observed, though
early in the evening, but one dim light gleaming from an upper
apartment, and as he reached the gate it was fast, and a porter stood
within, who, to Delwood's hurried question if all was well, as he threw
him a gold-piece, replied in a sad tone--"kind sir, my orders are to
receive no one, as my mistress is dying, or you should have admittance
at once; but I know that you, of all others, could serve to lighten the
blow to my master, and if you take the responsibility, you shall be
admitted."

"Leave that with me," he replied, "you shall not be censured," and with
assumed calmness of manner, he entered. Noiselessly he opened the outer
door, proceeding to the upper drawing-room, which opened to the room of
the dying one. Mr. Santon sat with his face buried in his hands, sobbing
aloud. Mr. Delwood took him tenderly by the hand, and whispered a few
words in his ear, which seemed to rouse him from the dreadful state of
mind to which he had yielded. "You find here a house of mourning," he
said, "but your presence is most welcome."

"What can I do for you in this trying hour?" asked Delwood; "can I be of
any assistance?"

"There is nothing to be done but to submit to the will of God," he
answered, "and I pray that I may have strength so to do." The door of
the chamber of death was opened, and the physician summoned Mr. Santon
to his dying wife's bedside. Delwood stood in the door; pale, but not
emaciated were the features upon which death had set his seal, her last
moment was near, but she had strength and consciousness supported by the
Sea-flower, to say a few parting words; with one hand in that of her
husband, the other upon the head of her grief-stricken daughter, she
said: "farewell,