"Her men were at work in a distant field; and she determined again, as usual when they were far from home, to carry them their dinner. When she took her seat in the little carriage, she said, 'It is the last time, I hope, that I shall go alone.' "The repast was spread, and they all stood around for the blessing from the lips of the lady. It was remarked by her men that she had never looked so beautiful: happiness beamed from her eyes, and her usually pale cheek was flushed with joy. She folded her hands, and her meek eyes were raised. At that moment, a savage yell was heard; an Indian sprung from the thicket. With one blow of his tomahawk the Lady Ursula was leveled to the ground, and, in less than a moment, her long, fair hair was hanging at his girdle. The Indian was followed by others; and all but one of her faithful servants shared the fate of their mistress." Mr. Grafton paused; Edith's tears were falling fast. "What became of her lover?" she said, as soon as she could speak. "He arrived a few days after, to behold the wreck of all his hopes, and returned again, heart-broken, to England." "And the picture," said Edith; "why did he not claim it, and take it with him, to console him, as far as it could, for the loss of his beautiful bride?" "As she had made no will," said Mr. Grafton, "all the Lady Ursula's estate belonged to her own family. The lady we have visited to-day is a daughter of her brother." Edith continued silent, and heeded not that the shades of evening gathered around them. She was pondering the fate of the Lady Ursula. That one so young, so beautiful, so good, should lead a life of sorrow and disappointment, and meet with so sudden and dreadful a death, weighed on her spirits; for Edith had not yet solved the mystery of life. The sun had long set, when they reached their own door. Dinah had prepared the evening meal, and the cheerful evening fire; and Edith smiled her thanks. As she helped her young mistress to undress, she said, "How pale you are, and how tired! You need a sweet, refreshing sleep to rest you again." When Edith laid her head on the pillow, she called her humble friend to her: "Ah, Dinah," she said, "I have heard a story that makes me think there is no happiness on this earth." Dinah had heard the story of the Lady Ursula. "Was it not too sad, that she should meet that dreadful fate just as her lover returned, and she was going to be so happy?" Dinah thought it was very sad. "But the lady was pure and good: the words of prayer were on her lips, and she went straight to heaven without much pain. Had she married and gone to England, she might have become vain and worldly; she might have lost the heavenly purity of her character." "Yes," said Edith; "and Col. Fowler, having lived so long in the army, might not have loved her as well as she thought he did. Ah, who could live without love?"