and hushed up within us the very sound of joy. Long did Mabel strive to keep back the return of reason, to dream on in blissful ignorance, but it would come, “_You must give up Walter_—you must strive to _forget_ him.” These words rang for ever in the dark chambers of her now desolate heart; she knew it must be so, she felt that even Walter would bid her go, and as her opening eyes caught a view of her dear old father (for such he ever seemed to her) gazing so sadly upon her, she sprang from the bed and feebly sunk at his feet; then hiding her face in his lap, she wept such tears as she could never shed again; the bitterness of death was past, her duty was before her, and in that sad hour the old man’s prayers were answered; strength from above inspired her drooping heart, and though in those soft eyes the light of joy had faded, and no gleam of brightness played around the mouth that once dimpled with the innocent mirth of an unclouded girlhood, yet Mr. Dacre felt, as he kissed her pure, calm brow, and gazed almost reverently into the clear depths of those spiritual eyes, that a power mightier than the spell of earthly love dwelt in that frail form; and his voice was almost exultant as with trembling hand he implored the blessing of God the Father, the Son and the Spirit upon her youthful head. That evening, long after the sun had set behind the hills, in the same lovely spot where Mabel was wont to watch his parting glories, two youthful forms sat with clasped hands, and pale, tearful faces. The moon rose in all her unclouded beauty, pouring a flood of silvery radiance over the scene; for a moment, the exquisite beauty of Nature sent its wonted light to Mabel’s face: then, with a faint cry of agony, she exclaimed— “It is the last time, Walter—dear, dear Walter! I shall never again gaze upon this beauty with thee. O, God, who makest the world so lovely, can it be that Thou requirest of me this sacrifice!” There was no sound for many minutes; but Walter’s head was bowed as if in prayer, and his strong frame shook like a reed. “God knoweth best, my own beloved,” at length he murmured. “It may be that for me this trial was sent, to teach me the hard lesson—‘Little children, keep yourselves from idols.’ I knew it not, but now I feel that your image reigned in the heart I had offered to my God, and that earth had more share in my thoughts than Heaven. “But, oh! to part from you, my Mabel—to give you up to others, my treasure, my love, my life! Oh! I cannot submit—my heart is crushed under this bitter trial! Alas! at times I have no trust, no hope, no faith!” “Say not so, my own, my noble Walter; give up all else, but cling to your faith; forsake not our only strength; think, in this terrible parting, how tenfold would be our anguish, did we not both look forward to that world where there is no more parting, and where ‘God shall wipe all tears from all eyes.’”