"Come to me when you are married--both of you," was my father's message; and we went, Alas, for the cloud which so soon dimmed our newborn happiness! We arrived in time--only just in time--to stand by his death-bed. How the scene comes back to me! The door and windows of his little chamber were thrown wide open and the soft, languorous breeze, heavy with the odour of wild flowers, stole in and played upon his wasted face. What a countenance it was! Passion-scarred, yet chastened and softened by keen physical pain; the burning blue eyes fixed steadily, yet with a sweet, steadfast light, upon the dim horizon--beautiful after the highest type of spiritual beauty. Twilight stole down from the hills, and then we gently folded his arms upon his breast, and the watchers outside, knowing well what such an action meant, wiped the tears from their eyes and slowly wended their way homewards. Then, later, the solemn chant of the monks in pious procession broke the stillness of the mountain night. But such a death was scarcely death. At least, it was death robbed of all its terrors; unutterably sad, yet unutterably sweet. There was truth beyond expression in the simple words rudely carved upon the wooden cross which, amid a score or two of others in a sheltered nook down in the valley, stands at the foot of his narrow grave-- "He Sought Peace, and Found It." So may it be with us! * * * * * Transcriber's note: Obvious typographical errors in spelling and punctuation were corrected without comment. Capitalization of the name "de Cartienne" was made consistent.