Dr. Howell and Mr. Manning went with Edna aboard the steamer, and both laughed heartily at her efforts to disengage herself from a pertinacious young book-vender, who, with his arms full of copies of her own book, stopped her on deck, and volubly extolled its merits, insisting that she should buy one to while away the tedium of the voyage. Dr. Howell gave final directions concerning the treatment of Felix, and then came to speak to the governess. "Even now, sadly as you have abused your constitution, I shall have some hope of seeing gray hairs about your temples, if you will give yourself unreservedly to relaxation of mind. You have already accomplished so much that you can certainly afford to rest for some months at least. Read nothing, write nothing (except long letters to me), study nothing but the aspects of nature in European scenery, and you will come back improved to the country that is so justly proud of you. Disobey my injunctions, and I shall soon be called to mourn over the announcement that you have found an early grave, far from your native land, and among total strangers. God bless you, dear child! and bring you safely back to us." As he turned away, Mr. Manning took her hand and said: "I hope to meet you in Rome early in February; but something might occur to veto my programme. If I should never see you again in this world, is there anything that you wish to say to me now?" "Yes, Mr. Manning. If I should die in Europe, have my body brought back to America and carried to the South--my own dear South, that I love so well--and bury me close to Grandpa, where I can sleep quietly in the cool shadow of old Lookout; and be sure, please be sure, to have my name carved just below Grandpa's, on his monument. I want that one marble to stand for us both." "I will. Is there nothing else?" "Thank you, my dear, good, kind friend. Nothing else." "Edna, promise me that you will take care of your precious life." "I will try, Mr. Manning." He looked down into her worn, weary face and sighed, then for the first time he took both her hands, kissed them and left her. Swiftly the steamer took its way seaward; through the Narrows, past the lighthouse; and the wind sang through the rigging, and the purple hills of Jersey faded from view, proving Neversink a misnomer. One by one the passengers went below and Edna and Felix were left on deck, with stars burning above, and blue waves bounding beneath them. As the cripple sat looking over the solemn, moaning ocean, awed by its brooding gloom, did he catch in the silvery starlight a second glimpse of the rose-colored veils, and snowy vittae, and purple-edged robes of the Parcae, spinning and singing as they followed the ship across the sobbing sea? He shivered, and clasping tightly the hand of his governess, said: "Edna, we shall never see the Neversink again." "God only knows, dear Felix. His will be done." "How silvery the echoes run-- Thy will be done--Thy will be done."