“No, of course not,” answered Merna, with quiet sarcasm; she felt hurt and indignant, but was altogether too proud to show it. Although Merna made no further mention of it, he seemed to feel ashamed of his neglect, and repeatedly said: “I will never leave again, without telling you that I am going;” so that in this respect she felt a greater assurance; but he spent the evening with her as usual, and in the usual manner bid her good-night, and she saw him no more for three years. Sad changes came to Merna during this interval; her mother, long a widow, sickened and died. Merna’s grief was beyond words—beyond thought even; it benumbed all her senses. The home which she had thought her own was taken from her—unjustly—but what did that matter? She was alone, and as ignorant of law as a babe. Poor child! She thought that it did not matter, that nothing mattered, now that the gentle face of her mother had faded out of life; she felt that she could no longer live within those memory-haunted walls. During all these sad days she heard nothing from Ned, and her heart cried out piteously: “Oh, if he truly loved me he would not leave me to bear my burdens alone.” These hard realities took away all the lingering grace of girlhood, but added the charm and poise of sweet, self-reliant womanhood. In these old towns, where people are born, live, and die in the same old house, generation after generation; where the ways are peaceful and narrow; where people drift along, content with no innovations of knowledge, or new ways brought from the bustling, outside world, there develops an aristocracy peculiarly its own, and those not within its old-fashioned circle can scarcely obtain a living. Not to own the home which their ancestors owned is looked upon as a disgrace; and owning it, to part with it, though the misfortune is not through fault of the owner—is considered a greater disgrace, for which there could be no extenuation. Merna very keenly realized that she was under the ban of social ostracism. She left this, her native place, for a town, newer and busier, where work was to be had for such unskilled hands as hers. Being wholly inexperienced in the ways of the world, as well as in labor, Merna found it hard to obtain the means of subsistence; she was a woman fair to look upon, and alone, therefore her path was beset with peril; but she was able to retain her own self-respect—that most truthful of all commendation—she was possessed of too much native refinement to be led into the vulgarity of evil ways, or seduced from right by fluent sophistries. * * * * *