ection between Robert
and me

"One day?" he repeated. "One day may be a long time hence."

"We are neither of us well off, sir," I said. "One day means the day
when we are a little richer than we are now."

"Is the young man educated? Can he produce testimonials to his
character? Oblige me by writing his name and address down on the back of
that card."

When I had obeyed, in a handwriting which I am afraid did me no credit,
he took out another card and gave it to me.

"I shall leave England to-morrow," he said. "There is nothing now to
keep me in my own country. If you are ever in any difficulty or distress
(which I pray God you may never be), apply to my London agent, whose
address you have there."

He stopped, and looked at me attentively, then took my hand again.

"Where is she buried?" he said, suddenly, in a quick whisper, turning
his head away.

I told him, and added that we had made the grave as beautiful as we
could with grass and flowers. I saw his lips whiten and tremble.

"God bless and reward you!" he said, and drew me toward him quickly and
kissed my forehead. I was quite overcome, and sank down and hid my face
on the table. When I looked up again he was gone.

* * * * * * *

June 25th, 1841. I write these lines on my wedding morning, when little
more than a year has passed since Robert returned to England.

His salary was increased yesterday to one hundred and fifty pounds a
year. If I only knew where Mr. Mallinson was, I would write and tell
him of our present happiness. But for the situation which his kindness
procured for Robert, we might still have been waiting vainly for the day
that has now come.

I am to work at home for the future, and Sally is to help us in our new
abode. If Mary could have lived to see this day! I am not ungrateful for
my blessings; but oh, how I miss that sweet face on this morning of all
others!

I got up to-day early enough to go alone to the grave, and to gather the
nosegay that now lies before me from the flowers that grow round it. I
shall put it in my bosom when Robert comes to fetch me to the church.
Mary would have been my bridesmaid if she had lived; and I can't forget
Mary, even on my wedding-day....

THE NIGHT.

THE last words of the last story fell low and trembling from Owen's
lips. He waited for a moment while Jessie dried the tears which Anne
Rodway's simple diary had drawn from her warm young heart, then closed
the manuscript, and taking