Just then the sound of approaching hoofs caused her to look toward their wagon; and she perceived two men mounted, one in the act of descending, while Dr. Bryant advanced quickly to meet him. Mr. Carlton left her. Silently she looked on, wondering who the strangers could possibly be, when the words fell with startling distinctness on her listening ear: "Dudley Stewart! do my eyes deceive me?" "Frank Bryant is it possible I meet you here?" The tones of the last speaker were too familiar to be mistaken. She trembled from head to foot as the past rose before her. Her first thought was of Florence. "Oh, if he is married, this meeting will be terrible!" and her heart throbbed violently as the gentlemen approached her. Scarce conscious of her movements, she advanced to meet Dr. Bryant, whose arm was linked in that of the new comer. They met: the fire-light glowed on the face of both. "Mr. Stewart!" and the wasted hand was extended. "Mary Irving! or is this an illusion?" Tightly the hand was clasped. "It is I----your old pupil, though so altered, I wonder not that you fail to recognize me." She lifted her eyes and met Dr. Bryant's gaze, deep and piercing, as though he were reading her inmost soul. Mr. Stewart looked long at the face turned toward him. "Frank, you did not tell me she was with you! Oh, how changed--how wasted you are! But what means this black dress?" and his fingers clutched her mourning gown, while his deep tone faltered. Mary drew closer to his side, and murmured: "Florry is well: but my uncle has been taken from us." Her head sunk on her bosom as she spoke. "Where is Florence?" and he tightly clasped her hand between his own. A shudder crept over Dr. Bryant, who had not heard their words, and he walked quickly away. "Florry is in the tent. Mr. Stewart, we heard that you were married; can this be true?" "No, no! Did your cousin credit the report?" "Yes; and ere you make yourself known, let me in some degree prepare her for the meeting." So saying, she sought Florence, and asked if she were sleeping. "No, Mary; can I do anything for you?" and she raised her head. "Yes, Florry, come with me--I want to speak to you." Her cousin accompanied her to the door, and standing so that the tent intervened between them and Mr. Stewart, Mary laid her hand on Florence's shoulder, and said: "I have just learned, Florry, that Mr. Stewart is not married." "Mary, Mary! why touch a chord which ever vibrates with the keenest agony? There is no happiness for me on earth--I have known that for long, and now I am striving to fix my thoughts, and all of hope that remains, on heaven." Mary linked her arm in Florence's, and gently drawing her forward, replied: "God has not promised heaven as the price of every earthly joy and comfort. Can you not still hope for happiness?"