Nothing was to be heard save a faint peal of laughter from the croquet-ground, where Walter and the two young ladies were endeavouring to play by lantern-light--a frolic she had heard them planning at dinner-time. Yet even that slight tidings from the world without recalled her to the present. “I must burn all proofs,” she murmured, as though repeating some authoritative command of another rather than any determination of her own. Then with a steady hand she took the letters, and burned them to the last atom, reading the words with greediness, as though, as the flame consumed them one by one, the remainder had grown more precious, like the Sibyl's books. There was more to try her yet. The last thing which the little drawer contained had yet to be brought forth--a leaden locket, the facsimile of the one which Derrick had just shewn to her in the churchyard. Within, although almost, as he had expressed it, “dried to dust,” was a tiny sprig of wood. She emptied this into the hollow of her hand, and instantly the wind whirled all away. My Lady uttered a low moan of anguish, then sat with the poor token in her hand, which, worthless and vacant as it was, yet, to her streaming eyes, held all the treasure of her youth. “Alas, alas, for the time that is no more!” cried she. “Who could have thought that I, with my own hand, should destroy this precious pledge? Kind Heaven, direct me--teach me what it is right to do! Till death should part us, did I swear to cherish him; and now, though we both live, alone he roves the world. It may be I should win him back to his former self, and save a soul alive. He has loved me always--always; and he loves me now, although he deems I have lain beneath the waves these thirty years, and although he seeks------ But that shall never he. I will tell Mary Forest rather to her face: 'I myself am married to this man whom you would wed.' He shall not bring another sin upon himself and shame on her, and----Ah, Heaven help me; what is that which I should do in this sad strait?”