love another? Or had he enough cold firmness to go through life without the warmth of a living love beside him? Tell me."

"I do not know, Philip.

another and not wronged her;

But he could have loved

do you not think so?"

Philip looked at me keenly, and I returned his look with steadiness. I understood the meaning of his strange talk, but I could not venture on such a sacred subject unIt was but an instant I had to wait, however,

bidden.

and then it came, the whole full tide of confidence. He loves Florence Folham with all the force and strength of his matured nature, of his "old sorrow put to new uses."

"Yes, Ottilie," he said, with deep feeling, "I, who had given up all hope of ever loving again, and should have condemned myself for even thinking of such a possibility, am out in that old whirlpool of doubt and fear and hope.” "And why not, Philip? It is very right and natural." "You do not condemn me, then? You do not call it perfidy to the past?"

I knew what he meant: he was thinking of Ellen; but we could not either of us speak of her, and yet we were both true to her dear memory. I remained silent a few moments; then taking his hand I said,

"Because we love instead of sorrowing,

Of those who sit and love us up in heaven,

Say not we "loved them once"!'"I

The organ ceased; after the benediction the high-altar service ended, and we left the chapel. We drove along in silence for a while, I thinking much of Philip and Florence. The love for her is beautiful, and comes most graciously in season.

His affection for Ellen was differ

ent: it began in his boyhood; there was no doubt, or fear, or sweet, wild delirium about it,- a quiet, sweet blossom of the spring-time of his life, which, if death had not intervened, would have ripened into golden fruit. Just before we reached home, he turned half playfully to me and said with a laugh, which was intended to hide his real feeling, "She may not love me after all, Ottilie, for I have not asked her; and upon my soul when I think of doing so, I wonder at my presumption in supposing such a blessed possibility."

"How can you doubt it, Philip? Why, her love is as plain to be seen as yours; clear as the sun at noonday. She reminds me of Coleridge's Genevieve. Go tell her some tender love-tale; she would forget and fling herself into your arms as naively as the poet's pretty maiden did.” He shook his head doubtingly, and began to look very solemn. As he lifted me from the carriage, when we reached our own court-yard, I whispered to him gayly, “Have courage, and, like Móntrose,

"put it to the touch,

And win or lose it all.'"

He did straightway. This evening he came to me triumphant. When he told the dear girl of his love and asked her to be his wife, she rose from her seat, stood frankly before him, rested her two little hands in his, and when he put his arms around her, she buried her glowing face on his shoulder and wept like a little child.

16

BEGINNING OF THE END.

I

HAVE been neglecting my journal for quite two weeks; and now I have so much on my heart, that, woman-like, I wish to begin at the end, and tell that which is troubling me most, instead of that which makes me happy. But, soberly and in order.

Philip is married! Yes, married and off. A few days after his pleasant and gratifying acceptance by the Folhams, who showed a very frank satisfaction at having their daughter so "nicely established," as Mrs. Folham said, — he received news of the death of an uncle in Germany, his father's eldest brother.

The death of this uncle brings a great deal of business on Philip. He has to go immediately to his father's old home in Saxony, to attend to the family affairs; thence to America, to settle up the business interest which his uncle and father had for many years together there, and which has been hanging half unravelled since the death of Philip's father, owing to the age and ill-health of this uncle. All the heirs look to Philip to settle matters; and he feels himself responsible, as his father's representative, to have the business arranged promptly and advantageously for all parties. But to do this might require a year's absence; and to be separated from Flor

ence such an age seemed to him an impossibility; yet go

he must.

You are no position are And as for

"Why separate at all?" asked the practical, straightforward Janet. 66 Why not marry at once? stranger to the Folhams, so far as name and concerned; nor are they, to me at least. to me at least. qu'en dira-t-on, why need any of you care?"

Common sense carried the day, especially as common sense and inclination went hand in hand. Mrs. Folham, to do her justice, demurred a little, very properly; but the approval of such persons as the American Ambassador and his wife, and Mrs. Dale, also Philip's distinguished position, had great weight with her, and overcame her "natural scruples," as she called them. Such scruples, arising from that sort of delicacy which is the growth of society, not nature, generally seem satisfied with a mere announcement of their existence; and as they are convenient mythical feelings, perfectly innocent, on which society's proprieties can be hung, they surely may be treated respectfully, as, half the time, they only ask to be acknowledged, not yielded to.

Florence behaved beautifully. The good, sweet girl, without any boldness or forwardness, said frankly and trustingly, "I should rather be married at once, if Philip wishes it, than wait for his return."

as

So the affair was settled; and yesterday morning, midday is called, in such matters, they were married in full and proper state. I cannot stop to give all the details, which at any other time would be so agreeable for me to dwell on,—the costly gifts, the ravishing toilet of the bride, the touching, impressive ceremony;-no, I must hurry on to that other romance, which has been blending its scarlet and purple threads in with this lovely

golden one, making up the sacred life-chord of joy and sorrow. At the breakfast yesterday Luigi and I stood beside each other.

"Now Edelhertz is off your hands, Ottilie," he said, with an attempt at playfulness, "you can have a little time for me; shall you not?"

I have been neglecting Luigi lately; but, to tell the truth, I have thought he showed a disposition to avoid me. He has seemed for several weeks indisposed for any companionship except that which we could have when all together. He has excused himself from our rides, preferring to drive with Janet and Venitia. Our little family circle has thus divided off during the daily pursuits of pleasant occupation; uniting, however, always in the evenings over the music, or in conversation with visitors on the terrace.

But I have willingly yielded him up to Venitia, hoping that his love for her, which has seemed to have an unaccountable tangle in it, might announce itself in some way. I could not see how I was able to help him in the matter; and his seeking Venitia's and Janet's society instead of mine appeared the most natural path to the conclusion, which I had convinced myself, from outward appearances, must come sooner or later.

And it has come; but Heaven knows in a form and shape I little anticipated! Eager and hasty as I was, a few pages before, to begin at the end, my pen falters as I approach it. O, to shut up Life's book once in a while, and not open it again until all the sad pages are passed over!

I was very gay yesterday, as I always am when under the high-pressure of memory. Philip's marriage could not be a true merry-making to me. It struck on the