Did Christian’s brow grow dark with selfish sorrow, as she listened to these mutual congratulations? Nay, that had been a strange mood of Christian’s mind in which self was uppermost, or indeed near the surface at all; and her whole soul rejoiced within her in sympathetic gladness. Nor, though they were happy in the full realisation of their early expectations, did she hold herself less blessed; for Christian bore about with her, in her heart of hearts, the holy memory of the dead, and in her hours of stillest solitude felt not herself alone. An angel voice breathed about her in whispering tenderness when she turned over the hallowed leaves of yon old Bible; and when the glorious light of sunset fell on her treasured picture, it seemed, in her glistening eyes, to light it up with smiles and gladness; and the time is gliding on gently and silently, day upon day falling like leaves in autumn, till the gates of yon far celestial city, gleaming through the mists of imperfect mortal vision, shall open to her humble footsteps, and the beloved of old welcome her to that everlasting reunion; and therefore can Christian rejoice, as well on her own account, as in ready sympathy with the joyful spirits round about her. But the present evening wore gradually away, and the children became heavy, weary, and sleepy, and the youngest of all fairly fell asleep; and Mrs. Melville looked at her watch anxiously, and Mary said she could not wait for Charles, but must go home; but here again Christian interposed. The little Melvilles and Hamiltons had slept under the same roof before now, and being too far gone in weariness to have joined in their domestic worship, even had the elders been ready to engage in it, were taken off by twos and threes indiscriminately to their respective chambers; and the three sisters are left alone once more, maintaining, by fits and starts, a conversation that showed how their thoughts wandered; and, in this dreary interval of waiting for the home-coming of Halbert and Charles, listening to the doleful dropping of the slow rain without, until the long-continued suspense became intolerably painful. At length footsteps paused at the door; there was a knock, and some one entered, and each drew a long breath as if suddenly relieved, though Mrs. Melville started again, and became deadly pale, when Charles Hamilton entered the room alone. He seemed much agitated and distressed. “Where is Halbert?” Mrs. Melville exclaimed; and her cry was echoed by the others at the fireside. “Has anything happened to Halbert?” “Nothing--nothing: Halbert is quite well,” said Charles, sitting down and wiping the perspiration from his forehead, while Halbert’s wife clasped her hands in thankfulness. “He will be here soon; but I come from a most distressing scene--a deathbed--and that the deathbed of one who has spent his life as an infidel.” “A stranger, Charles?” asked Mary.