He bent down to kiss the child, who had fallen asleep again, and had Mildred been a little younger he might perhaps have kissed her, too, for he was an enthusiastic admirer of girlish beauty, but as it was, he merely bade her good-night and left the room. The next morning Mildred was roused by a pair of the softest, fattest, chubbiest hands patting her round cheeks, and opening her eyes, she saw Edith sitting up in bed, her auburn curls falling from beneath her cap and herself playful as a kitten. Oh, how near and dear she seemed to Mildred, who hugged her to her bosom, calling her “little sister,” and wishing in her heart that somewhere in the world she had a sister as gentle, and pretty, and sweet, as Edith Howell. That afternoon, as Mildred sat reading in her room, she saw a carriage drive up to the door, and heard Edith’s voice in the hall, saying to her father: “Yes, Minnie must go,—Minnie must go.” A moment after Mr. Howell appeared, saying to her: “We are going to ride, Miss Howell, and on Edith’s account, as well as my own, shall be glad of your company. I shall visit the cemetery for one place, and that may not be agreeable, but the remainder of the trip I think you will enjoy.” Mildred knew she should, and hurrying on her bonnet and shawl, she was soon seated with Mr. Howell and Edith in the only decent carriage the village afforded. “To the graveyard,” said Mr. Howell, in answer to the driver’s question. “Where shall I drive you first?” and after a rapid ride of a mile or more they stopped before the gate of the enclosure where slept the Dresden dead. Holding Edith’s hand in hers. Mildred followed whither Richard led, and soon stood by a sunken grave, unmarked by a single token of love, save the handsome stone, on which was inscribed “HETTY K. HOWELL, Aged 19.” “Hetty Howell!” repeated Mildred. “_Who was she?_” and she turned inquiringly towards Richard. He was standing with folded arms and a most touchingly sad expression upon his face, but at her question he started, and unhesitatingly answered, “_Hetty Kirby was my wife._” Mildred had incidentally heard of Hetty Kirby at Beechwood, but never that she was Richard’s wife, and she exclaimed, in some astonishment: “Your wife, Mr. Howell? Were you then married when you went away?”