which Mabel’s soft voice and lovely face were not soothing as the tones of music; and by the bed of sickness, or in the hour of death, she was always ready to minister help to the afflicted, and to breathe into the sufferer’s ear the blessed promises of the gospel. But, ah! in all these long dreary years, how had Mabel pined for some voice to breathe comfort into her sad heart, and to awaken once more the chords of affection within its silent chambers. Since a poor persecuted girl, she fled, in the dark and gloomy night, from the princely mansion of her cruel father, “choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season,” how much of suffering, toil, and privation, had she endured. It was by the help of Alice, her waiting-maid, that her plan of flying to America was formed and carried out. Alice’s uncle, Mr. Acton, had written to her, to announce his intended departure to the colonies, with a company about to sail; and Mabel determined to join him, and accompany them to America. Alice was easily persuaded to escape with her young mistress, and their arrangements had been made some days previous to the wedding-day; but Mabel had hoped till the last that her stern father would relent. Disguised in a suit of Alice’s apparel, she easily effected her escape from the castle, and from thence to the little seaport town, where Mr. Acton resided. To him, Mabel made known all that was necessary of her sad story, and the old man, touched with pity for the poor dove flying from the tormentors, promised his aid and protection as long as she required it. A day or two after they all embarked; and Mabel, as she saw the distant shore sink below the horizon, felt that she was leaving all she loved on earth, and that henceforth her life must be one of toil, hardship, and privation, without a single ray of gladness to cheer and brighten it; but her pure spirit did not waver for a moment; dearer to her the faith in which she had been educated, and which she had so early learned to prize, than luxury or splendor, or even earthly love. Then, too, she was comforted by the thought that her father would not carry out his threat, now that threats were useless, and Mr. Dacre would close his life in peace among his beloved parishioners; and Walter, ah! could he know the sufferings to which she was exposed, how would his loving heart ache—and she thanked Heaven for sparing him this trial; never for a moment did she doubt his constancy, or cease to dwell upon his love as still fully hers. Beautiful faith of a warm, trusting heart! how seldom on earth do we find it.