Overcome with exhaustion and loss of blood, Andrew Ayton sunk back on his pillow, and William Auchmutie, overwhelmed with despair, staggered from the chamber. It was now evident that the few remaining hours Andrew Ayton was to spend on earth were rapidly drawing to a close. He lay in a sort of stupor, with his eyes fixed on the clock, as if counting the moments till the arrival of Mary Cunninghame; and the slightest move caused him to turn his eyes to the door in the expectation of seeing her for whose presence he longed. At length the sound of carriage wheels is heard rolling rapidly along the street; they pause before the inn; footsteps are heard on the stair, the door opens, and almost as death-like as himself, and supported by his aunt, enters Mary Cunninghame. "Mary, my darling Mary!" gasped Andrew Ayton as he clasped her to his breast, "God is good—he has heard my prayer—we meet again——" His head fell back on the pillow. "Help, help!" screamed Mary Cunninghame, "he is fainting—he is dead!" and fell senseless on the couch beside him........ No uncommon event in Paris—a novice is about to take the veil. But in this case curiosity is excited to the highest pitch, for the young lady about to be professed is a native of the cold north, and remarkable for her extreme beauty. The day appointed for the ceremony at length arrives, and the Church of St. Genevieve is crowded to the very doors, every inch of standing room is occupied, and hundreds are obliged to depart murmuring and dissatisfied. The organ peals forth its grandest music, but all ears are inattentive; ladies are there attired in the most costly dresses; but on this occasion their beauty and elegance are unheeded; all eyes are turned towards the door; every ear is on the alert to catch the faintest murmur which tells of her approach. Still she enters not, and murmurs of impatience are beginning to be heard, when cries of "she comes, she comes!" arrest all other sounds, and a general movement takes place throughout the stately edifice, as each individual, heedless of obstructing his neighbour’s view, stands on tip-toe, or mounts the seat, in order to obtain the first glimpse of the procession. The words, "beautiful, how beautiful!" are uttered by many as onward comes the youthful novice arrayed in the most costly bridal attire. Jewels flash from amongst her braided hair; magnificent the veil which shrouds her slender figure; but conspicuous above all is the deep air of sadness impressed on her lovely countenance.