began a diligent search for the missing volume. | an engagement, to one who has nothing to offer “Can I assist you, Mary," said Arthur rising you, which is worthy of you, but his whole heart." and approaching her. "Suppose," said Mary, half playfully, half "Certainly, you can, if you will," said Mary, bashfully extending her hand towards Arthur, forcing a smile, but it has always been my na-"I accept the offering, it will cut short a great ture to be somewhat afraid of very grave people, deal that is very fine, and place you in an awkand I could not presume to interrupt you, now-ward dilemma," a-days."

Mary tried to speak in a light and playful tone. but there was an involuntary accent of wounded feeling and reproach in her voice, which spake to Arthur's heart.

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Then, I am to understand, that when your friends grow grave, from whatever cause, you give them up."

"Not at all," said Mary, coloring deeply, "when my friends grow grave from any sufficient cause, so far from giving them up, I would cling to them but the more closely, but when all the best and noblest of earthly blessings are left them, to grieve for reverses of fortunes is a discreditable weakness. I should not have expected it of you, Arthur."

"You know me too well, Mary," said Arthur, looking earnestly at her, “to believe that I am grieving for reverses of fortune."

"I see no other cause."

A look more eloquent than words, was for some minutes Arthur's only reply, then he said gravely, Then you do not understaud me as well as I thought you did. Mary."

“An embarrassing pause ensued, for both saw plainly that they understood each other perfectly. Mary, at length, said, as calmly as she could, "I understand that these pecuniary embarrassments involve much that must necessarily be painful to yourself, and your friends, such as your absence, your temporary exile in a wild and lonely country, but”—and here she stopped from inability to finish the sentence satisfactorily.

"But do you not see that they involve the renunciation of my dearest hopes," said Arthur, forgetting for the moment the plan of conduct to which he had resolved to adhere. "Do you not see, that I ought not even to wish you to share my fortunes, were you willing to do so

now?"

Mary cast her eyes down, and said in a tremulous tone, "I certainly do not see in what respect you differ from your former self, except that higher qualities are developing in your char

Arthur seized her offered hand and pressed it to his lips. Do not, dearest Mary, make me despise myself. let me at least have the consolation of self-respect, it is utterly impossible that I can allow you to bind yourself to me by any promise, I should feel that I acted dishonorably in doing so. For my own part I know that I could never love any other than yourself, and I only ask you to believe this."

Arthur spoke with so much emotion, that Mary could no longer maintain the tone of playfulness she had endeavored to assume, but replied with a gentle aud touching earnestness, which was irresistibly convincing; "Then, in all seriousness, Arthur, I can only reply in your own words, I know that I could never love another, and I only ask you to believe this."

“I must, I do believe it; I should be too unhappy were I to doubt it, but yet, I am painfully conscious that my character is unformed, that my education is defective, that another more worthy of you may seek to win your love; should this be the case your feelings might change, Mary, and I would not then for any earthly consideration have you fettered by ties to me, which it would be better for you had never existed. You must consider yourself free, dearest Mary."

"Do not let us aflict ourselves with these imaginary pictures of what never can happen : in the first place, I shall not see this exalted being, in the next, even if he loved me, I certainly could never love him. I do not pretend to deny that you have faults, and I know that I have many myself. but I confidently expect that we shall both improve; meantime, I must assure you, that I not only hope a great deal from you, but that I am proud of you, just as you are.” What a radiant expression of tenderness, of “It would be vain now to affect reserve, since proud delight lit up Arthur's face, as Mary utI have been weak enough to give expression to tered these words; she thought she had never feelings which I ought to have repressed. It seen him look so handsome before. "Dear may be years before I could place you in such a Mary," he said, taking her hand between both his position as I should be willing to see you occupy, own, "these words are worth years of toil, of or that your mother would naturally expect for self-sacrifice, they will come back to me again you, and I would not for the world fetter you by and agaiu, to cheer me during our long separa

acter."

tion. Yet, they only confirm me in resolving, never before experienced, and in proportion as not to take advantage of your generous affection. earthly objects faded and receded from her view, I need not say how fervently I hope that I may visions of that land, whose glories are but dimly one day ask your hand as the most precious of shadowed forth, in all that is brightest, fairest, all boons, but it will be a free gift I ask, not a dearest in this mortal life, arose before her. right I claim." There was an earnestness, often sublimity, in her

"I will not insist," said Mary, with a deep language; a tenderness in her words, a touching blush, yet half smiling, "upon an engagement. and celestial beauty in her looks, which imVows are of no use where there is mutual confi-pressed all who saw, and heard her, with the dence and affection, and when these feelings do belief so well expressed by the common phrase, not exist they are only fetters." that she was not long for this world!"

At this moment it appeared impossible that Clara had written to Dr. Leiber, according to distrust could ever arise between two such lovers, promise, soon after Margaret had left her, debright visions of the future came before them, scribing the state of her health, as briefly and and they talked on “taking no note of time" until simply as possible, but she dwelt with all the ferMary was roused by the sound of the supper-bell vor of her heart on the change produced in her to an embarrassing consciousness, that their con- views and feelings since her acquaintance with versation had been prolonged to a length which Margaret Selden, who she said had been sent to must have excited observation and conjecture in her by Heaven, on her goodness and kindness, the family circle.

CHAPTER XLIX.

Fear no more the heat of the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages,
Thon thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages.
Cymbeline.

and expressed her gratitude and affection for himself so touchingly, that it brought tears many times to the old man's eyes, which be brushed away as quickly as they arose, and glanced hastily around to be sure there was no witness of his weakness.

Clara had twined herself around Dr. Leiber's heart in a manner perfectly incomprehensible to himself, and he was often surprised to find how frequently his thoughts reverted to her. He had But we must leave the inhabitants of Sher- found an object upon which the affections of a wood for a while, with all the mingled lights naturally warm heart might centre, he had reand shadows of trials and blessings falling fast solved to adopt her as his daughter, and often upon them, and turn to the humble abode of pictured her to himself, restored to health and Cloverdale, where the crushed flower was breath-happiness, enlivening his solitary home with her ing out its last earthly sweetness. As the dark sweet presence, and cheering his declining age days of winter set in, with their frosts and snows, by her affection. The hopes of age are relinClara shrank and faded beneath their influence, quished with more pain than those of youth, for but no word of complaint passed her lips, sweet once gone, they are not replaced by others fairer, and holy thoughts were her constant companions, brighter, so quickly, that the heart has no time and with child-like piety, divested of all fear, she to brood in grief over their loss. The bloom of gave her whole heart to God. The dark and winter once blighted, appears no more. mysterious questions of fate, foreknowledge, evil, Dr. Leiber's hopes were greatly damped by which agitate and perplex so many thoughtful Clara's letter. He would have gone to visit her minds, and disturb the bearts even of the faith- as soon as he received it, but was compelled by ful, had no influence over the earnest, simple, urgent professional engagements to remain for unquestioning faith, with which Clara rested on some days at his post. He replied immediately the promises of the Gospel. Her soul could no to her letter, gave very minute directions with longer be tossed on the changeful billows of hu- regard to her health, expressed his great satisman opinions, it was anchored fast to the Rock of factjon in reading her account of the altered state Ages. She knew that her hopes were founded in of her feelings, and concluded by an assurance everlasting truths by the strength of internal evi- that he should visit her, as soon as he could disdence which it was as impossible to doubt, as the engage himself from his pressing duties, and an light shining at noonday. Argument might fail exhortation to her to take care of herself for the to convince the blind man that the light of heaven sake of one who would gladly make her his was shining around him, but it would be impos-daughter, if she could be willing to take such sible after his eyes were opened to persuade him a rough, uncouth old oddity for a father as himof the contrary fact. Clara saw and rejoiced in self.

the light of the soul, and found in its beams a · Clara shook her head, as she read the conpure and heavenly serenity, such as she had cluding lines of the letter, and tears rushed to

her eyes, for how many sad and tender thoughts had put away carefully in a secret drawer of her did the name of father conjure up to her mind. desk, (she had not looked at them for many "Ah! poor, dear old man, it is too late, she ex-weeks,) and scarcely glancing at them, sealed claimed, "I can never live to reward your good-them in an envelope, aud directed them to Auness." gustus Vernon. Her hand trembled as she Clara shuddered now when she remembered thought with what emotions she had once traced Augustus. She would not for the world have his name, and with what different feelings she renewed her engagement with him, had it been now wrote it for the last time. Once she would in her power to do so; she saw his selfishness, as soon have thought of giving up her life itself, his hard-heartedness, in all their hideousness; as of surrendering these precious treasures; and and yet she could not think of the days in which now she laid them back in the drawer, designing her very soul seemed bound up in his, with- to return them, without one word of reproach, out some lingering emotions of tenderness. Yet of regret, of farewell. She was so well conshe believed she could hear of his marriage vinced that Augustus had no heart to address, without pain, and had frequently thought of the that even had he stood at that moment before probability that this event might take place at her, she was sure that she should not have utany time. tered one word to him.

Few persons, however, feel, when an event A few days after this event, Dr. Leiber arrived occurs in which their feelings are much inter-on a visit for a day or two to Clara. She reested, as they imagined they should do, when ceived him with so bright a look, so sweet a anticipating it, as Clara found with regard to smile, that he did not at first perceive the ravaherself, when the trial came. Mrs. Hickman ges of disease in her appearance. Indeed, he received a letter from her sister in Philadelphia, willingly indulged the delusion, and as he listenwho was engaged in the millinery line, and as ed to her, and looked at her, meditated various receiving a letter was an event which did not plans for her future happiness. The next mornoccur to her more than three or four times in a ing, however, he saw but too plainly that it had year, she considered it one of importance, and been a dream in which he had indulged; he hastened to shew the letter to Clara, hoping to could not look at Clara without seeing that she amuse and interest her. It was filled with an" was wearing awa' to the land of the leal." The account of the beautiful things, which the writer sudden gravity that overspread Dr. Leiber's face, had been making up for various brides; but she said Miss Gates's things were much the most beautifulest of all, as they ought to be, for she was as rich as cream, and going to marry the handsomest gentleman in Philadelphia, people said, Mr. Augustus Vernon, the girls were all dying for him, and every body said he was only going to marry her for her money, for she was no ways pretty; indeed, if she had been a poor girl, people would call her ugly.

as he marked Clara's trembling hand, pale cheek, and her almost untasted breakfast, which she endeavored to seem to eat, did not escape her observation. She met the sorrowing glance that was riveted upon her, with an answering look of so much affection and pity, that Dr. Leiber, unable to conceal his emotion, pushed his chair hastily from the table, and muttering something about the heat of the fire, walked to a window.

He had intended making many inquiries of Mrs. Hickman with regard to Clara, but he had not the heart to do it now; he felt that they were answered.

Clara was herself surprised at the emotion with which she read these lines,-it brought the past so vividly before her; her own brightest youth, the pure, self-sacrificing, priceless love About an hour or two after breakfast, Clara which she had lavished upon Augustus; the sent to ask him to come to her apartment, where concealment which she had practised for his she said they could talk comfortably and quietly, sake, the only concealment which she had ever had from her dear, kind, old father, and one as she had a great deal to say to him. With a which she could not recall without inexpressible heavy heart, Dr. Leiber obeyed the summons. pain; and then that last letter, on which she Her countenance wore an air of beautiful could not even now allow herself to dwell-all- serenity; it spoke of that "peace which the all came back with a power which shook her world can neither give nor take away," of the feeble frame with a fearful storm of emotion."still waters and green pastures," in which her But this state of feeling did not last long; calmer, soul had found rest.

better thoughts came to her aid, and a sentiment She motioned Dr. Leiber to an arm chair bealmost of satisfaction arose with the conviction side her, and said— "that the last link was indeed broken." She retired immediately to her apartment, took the miniature of Augustus and his letters which she

"This has been your chair for a long time; see how nicely I have cushioned it for you; I have often wished you would come to sit in it, and

that I could see you sitting just here by me, and now learning from this simple child lessons thought of all I would say to you." which he never afterwards forgot.-he saw an

Dr. Leiber tried to smile; "and I am here at exemplification of "that perfect love which castlast," he said, "ready to listen to you all day long, if you please."

eth out fear," spoken of by the most spiritual of sacred writers, and perceived how far the proClara looked earnestly in his face, and was mises of the Gospel exceed in richness and fulsilent for a minute; so many thoughts and feel-ness the ordinary faith of believers, and couseings crowded upon her, she knew not how to quently their power to realise them. give them utterance, and she was meditating "My dear child," said Dr. Leiber, when how to soften, as much as possible, the pain Clara paused, "You have taught me a lesson I of what she must say; then taking his hand shall never forget; and your words will be a gently within her own, which looked almost comfort to me as long as I live; aye, they will transparent, as her slender, white fingers encir- be with me on my death bed. But, tell me, is cled his, she said, there nothing that I can do for you?"

It is such a comfort to me, now, that we enjoy the same blessed hopes and promises; this will lessen so much the pain of our short separation. If I could live, I would gladly be a daughter to you, but you see now yourself, my dear, kind friend, that this cannot be, yet indeed, I have tried to get well, and have followed your advice exactly."

“We must submit to the will of God, my dear child," said Dr. Leiber, in a sad tone; "I am thankful to Him that you are so well prepared for the great change, which we must all undergo. I am an old man, and shall soon follow you. I have wished and prayed to see you and Mary well and happy, and thought how much pleasure it would give me, my poor child, to make you forget what you have suffered. It may be I was selfish too, and thought too much of my own happiness in having "

Here the good old doctor fairly broke down, and finished the sentence by clearing his throat two or three times.

Our Father in Heaven takes from us earthly things, to draw our hearts more closely to hea venly ones. I know that this is true, and I bless Him for it," said Clara. "One by one, I have given up all, and I do not grieve for them now. Last of all, I gave up the hope that I could do something to repay all your goodness to me; but this was a presumptuous thought—as if God did not know what was best to do for us both."

A deep flush overspread Clara's face and neck for a minute, and she became again suddenly very pale, but conquering her emotion, she took from the secret drawer of her desk a small packet, and said, in a somewhat tremulous tone :

When you hear that I am gone, open this packet, and you will find contained in it the few requests I have to make; but when you do so, remember that if I was wronged, I forgave it from my heart, and you must do so likewise.

Dr. Leiber took the packet from her in silence, and made a sign of acquiescence.

"And poor Rosendale must fall to strangers. How much I wish I were old enough to make a will that it might be yours; but you must go there sometimes and look at the old elm tree I used to play under when I was a child. There, too, my dear father used often to read that he might look at me; and my rose-bushes and honey-suckles by the porch. I should like so much to be able to go there just once with you, just to shew you what I used to love most."

Dr. Leiber wiped away the tears he could no longer restrain.

"But one thing more, if it would not be too much for the sake of a childish feeling, let me be laid in the grave with my poor, dear old father, and you will go sometimes and see where your child sleeps."

"I will buy Rosendale, I will do all you ask, my dear child, so help me God," said Dr. Leiber, in a voice hoarse with emotion.

Dr. Leiber quitted Cloverdale with feelings such as he had rarely experienced in the course of a long life. He returned to his old occupation, and there was little outward change discernible in his manner, but his heart was heavy within him; the image of Clara always rose before him at night, and he often dreamed that she was dying, so that every morning he looked out for some messenger of evil tidings to inform him of her death.

Clara saw how deeply Dr. Leiber was moved; she felt for the childless old man, who had hoped so much from her. There was something, too, in his look and accent which reminded her of her own father, and drew her heart more closely to him. With all the eloquence of deep feeling, and with the endearing and child like simplicity, peculiar to herself, she described the peace and joy with which her soul was filled, the bright visions of glory that floated before her, and Dr. Leiber felt the very depths of his soul stirred by her words. He had been a prac- Meantime Clara awaited the day of summons tical believer in christianity for many years, and without fear; she seemed gentler, sweeter, sebad led a life of active benevolence, but he was rener, every day; she did not seem preparing to

"Indeed she was, sir," replied Mr. Hickman, much moved; "my wife and I often used to say so, but we don't deserve any thanks for kindness to her, for we must have had hearts of stone, if we had not done all we could for her, poor lamb, she was so kind and pitiful to every thing that had breath; and as for my children, I'll be bound, even little Gerald, young as he is, will never forget her the longest day he has to live."

leave the world as a vale of sorrow, as a place, but strangers; yet it is a comfort to know that of sin and suffering from which she would gladly she has gone to a better world, for she was too be released, but as one about to set out ou a dis-good for such a one as this." tant journey for a beloved home looks with kindness on all the objects about the place which he is about to leave forever, and partakes of pleasures with enjoyment which had lost their charm, when he thinks it is for the last time; so Clara showed a child-like pleasure in watching the various aspects of nature; now she viewed the snow flakes fall so pure, so bright, so soft-now she listened to the clear notes of the red bird or ar ranged in fanciful forms the branches of evergreens, which the children often brought to deck her little apartment.

The honest warmth of this eulogium brought tears to Dr. Leiber's eyes, but he made no reply, except by another and more cordial farewell

A shining pebble, a bunch of bright, red ber-shake of the hand, and a "God bless you,”. ries, or a bird, were often carried to Clara by her little friends, who loved her with all the warmth of their guileless hearts.

which Mr. Hickman rather guessed at than heard; then turning his horse's head homewards, he pursued his dreary way full of sorrowful thoughts When she was strong enough she would tell and feelings. Still he saw before him, through the children stories from the Bible, or the Pil-whatever scenes he passed, the lonely spot where grim's Progress. On one occasion, when they were gathered closely around her, listening eagerly to every word she uttered. Mrs. Hickman remarked in a low tone to her husband, as she looked at them, that she did not know whether Miss Clara was most like a child or an angel.

Clara lay by her father's side, with the green. turf on her breast, and the leafless branches of the willow waving over her.

His first care when he arrived at home, was to open Clara's packet. The first paper he chanced to open contained some requests, as to the distri"She will soon be an angel, poor thing," re-bution of various little articles of property she plied Mr. Hickman, in a compassionate tone; had bequeathed as tokens of remembrance to the “and yet, I don't know that we ought to say few friends she had left behind. Her Bible, and poor thing, neither, for I am sure she'll go to a better world."

what remained of her father's library, she bequeathed to Dr. Leiber; a ring to Gerald, a locket His prediction was sooner verified than he had to Margaret; her wearing apparel, a few books. expected, for on the following morning, Clara and some articles of furniture, to the Hickmans, was found in her own room, sitting in an arm-and a request that Dr. Leiber would always be chair, reclining apparently in a gentle sleep, with a friend to those good people for her sake.

a faint tinge of color perceptible in her cheek. Her Bible lay open on a table before her, and beside her was a letter from Margaret Selden. containing a few withered violets; it was one which she had received two or three weeks previously, and which had been read until it was almost worn

out.

A physician was sent for immediately, and every means of restoration tried, but Clara never breathed more.

She

He then opened a letter addressed to himself, evidently blotted with tears, containing her short story, in terms more affecting from their extreme simplicity, and from the absence of any expression of resentment at the heartless conduct of her lover. She said that she had never ceased to regret bitterly that she had concealed her engagement from her dear father-the only concealment she had ever practised towards himand she would now atone for it, as far as she could, by confidence to her second father. requested him to deliver the blank envelope, which she said contained his miniature and letters, to Augustus Vernon himself, it would be only necessary to say that she had requested him to do so, and that they would have been returned long ago, had she known any secret and safe At parting, Dr. Leiber wrung Mr. Hickman's method of conveying them to him. I forgive hand, and said, “I am a man of few words, Mr. him from my heart," she added; "I wish his Hickman, but I do not feel the less on that ac- happiness, but it would be vain to tell him so; I count. I shall never forget your kindness or do not think he would value such an assurance, your good wife's to the poor child that we have and it would be painful to you to repeat such laid in the grave, without one to mourn for her words from me, and see them coldly and care

A message was then despatched for Dr. Leiber, who came immediately to pay the last duties to the dead. He accompanied Clara's remains, attended by Mr. Hickman, to Rosendale, and saw her laid in the grave with her father, with an indescribable sensation of heaviness and loneliness of heart too deep for the relief of tears.

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