the departed one. The sole exception was the stone which commemorated Sir Robert's death. His marble cross was without speck or flaw. It stood in the western corner, in a little plot of garden-ground of its own, and beside it was a vacant space, left there by his widow's desire, that she might herself be laid there when God's good time should come. It is the evening of the day upon which Master Walter got up so early, and my Lady has come, as usual, to her husband's tomb. Her hand is resting on the top of it, whereon she has just hung a chaplet of fresh-gathered flowers; but her look is fixed upon the western sky, where the glory of the sunken sun yet lingers. It may be but a simple faith that associates Heaven with the sky, but it is a very natural one. My Lady's soul was longing to be at rest somewhere beyond those quiet clouds which flecked that golden deep. Death is not so invariably hateful to us as the divines would paint it; it has no terrors for the Good--nay, sometimes not for the Bad either--while to the Wretched it would often be more welcome than the dawn. “If I could only 'fall asleep,' as is said of the saints,” thought my Lady, “here, and at this instant, how well for all would it be! Some only live for others, they say, but the best that could possibly happen to all I love would be that I should be laid in my grave. And some have died for others, as God knows I would die for any one of my dear ones, and yet it would be sin in me to die. Ah, husband, husband! thou that liest here under the flowers and the sky, I would to Heaven that I could lie down beside thee now, and never wake! I trust thou dost not know this thing that troubles me, and threatens mine and thine, or thy dear heart would be wrung with pity, although thou wert an angel and in eternal bliss. And but that the Almighty has fixed his canon against self-slaughter---- Those were happy days in which I first read that!” mused she, interrupting herself, and carried involuntarily into another current of thought; “we read it together, you and I, Robert. My new life was just beginning then; never had pupil such a kindly teacher as thou wert. I can bear to think of that; but of thy love, thy noble generous love, thy patient tenderness------ Spare me, great Heaven! I did so worship this dead man, and now I live alone; and yet I would not have him here alive, to know what I know, to feel what I feel, to dread what I dread--no, not though we should be permitted to live together for years, and die within the selfsame hour, as I used to pray we might. I thank thee, merciful God, that I am bearing this heavy cross alone; give me strength to carry it, and suffer me to do so--if it please thee--to the end, alone. It is my fault, husband; all mine. When you pressed me to marry you, and I said 'No,' I should have said it more firmly. We were not fit for one another.--No, no; not that! I will not say that. You made me what I am;