The tears stand in Christian’s eyes--some chord of old recollection has been touched more powerfully than usual, and Christian’s cheeks are wet, and her eyes cast down for a moment. Mary can only gaze in astonishment, and before she recovers herself Christian has led the young man forward to them, and then she hurries from the room, while Halbert extends his hand to him cordially. What is the meaning of this? both the young men join in explanations, but Charles Hamilton’s voice is broken, half with the recollection of his dead brother, and half with the pleasure of discovering such a tie already existing with Mary’s family. Yes, Charles’s brother was the original of that saint-like portrait which hangs within reach of the glories of sunset on the wall of Christian’s room. The grave where Christian had buried her youthful hopes was the grave of William Hamilton, and that one name made the young man kindred to them all; and when Christian after a time came down stairs again, she found him seated between Halbert and Mary as though he had been familiar with that fireside circle all his days, and was indeed a brother. It was a happy night that to the group in this bright room, a night of great cheerfulness and pleasant communion, just heightened by the saddening tinge which memory gave it, and Mary, our sweet Mary, marvels at herself, and is half disappointed that there is so little of romance in the fading of her sorrow; but marvel as she likes, the unwitting smile plays on her lips again, and you could scarce believe that those clear eyes have shed so many tears to-day. She feels easier and happier even, now the weight of concealment, which disturbed and distressed her in Christian’s presence of late, is removed from the spirit; and she is the same open, single-minded, ingenuous girl as heretofore; the secret consciousness that it was not right to yield to Forsyth’s fascinating powers is gone now, and Mary Melville is herself once more, aye, more herself than she has been for months past, notwithstanding the bitter suffering of that very day. God has graciously tempered the fierceness of his wind to the tender and trembling lamb, and Christian’s confidence is restored, and she feels sure that time will make Mary’s heart as light as ever, and efface from her memory the image of that evil man, and blot out the traces of this day’s agony; and a smile flits over Christian’s cheerful face as she fancies the substitution of another image in the precious entablature of Mary’s heart. Who can tell but Charles Hamilton may gain a right to the name of brother, which she already hesitates not to accord, better than his present claim, precious to her mind as it is.