years of separation, yet closest union, which might perchance roll over their heads in this fair valley ere they might exchange the sorrows of earth for the joys of eternity. At length, one winter's afternoon, going to pray as usual at the twilight hour in this quiet, undisturbed spot, with a heart heavy with grief at his long banishment from her side, he found her there before him, kneeling on the cold pavement of the sanctuary, with bowed head and drooping form; and as, at the sound of his footstep, she turned and looked at him with eyes which shrank beneath his earnest gaze, he started at the sorrow he saw revealed in their troubled depths, and at the pallor of the sweet face, wan with woe, which she quickly hid in her trembling hands. "Primrose," he said gently, "you are in trouble of heart, and you hide it from me, who of all men have the right to share your sorrows! Is this your trust and confidence in me? Sweetheart"--and he touched softly the golden head, which bowed yet lower at his words--"it is not sorrow only for your beloved father's loss that has wrought such dark lines beneath these dear eyes and on these wasted cheeks, and that has caused you these many weary weeks to shut your doors upon me. Some other sorrow weighs down your tender spirit, and you seek to bear it alone, instead of suffering me to share it, as is my right!" Primrose rose to her feet, and laying her hand on his arm, smiled bravely in his face, as she said; "Come without, Percival, and we will talk a few moments together, for I have more to say than may well be spoken within these walls. Fain would I have hidden myself from your sight yet awhile longer, till I could have worn away with smiles these traces of my foolish tears! But come, I am strong, and lest I become once more weak and cowardly of spirit, I will say my say. It is but a selfish grief, dear Percival, of which you see these marks upon my face--a selfish shrinking from a duty borne in but of late upon me, that has made me bury myself these past weeks within the walls of my castle and refuse admittance to you, whom I craved to see. But now I will shrink no longer from what I have felt I ought to say. Percival, it is my wish to release you from these special ties of love and friendship we have vowed together before yon altar--that you may be free to wed some day a maiden worthier than I to share in your labours and enjoy your love, free to tread a brighter path through this world than that to which your love for me must bind you, and to know those beautiful joys of home, which would surely lighten your cares and give you a happiness of which you as yet refuse to dream, and which I, in the selfishness of my love for you, have suffered you thus wholly to renounce for my sake. But your life shall not be ever sacrificed for mine, Percival! Nay, speak not hastily! Think on what I have said, and you will see, as I have come to do, how blindly selfish I have been, and how far better it will be