The sun was setting, when Mr. St. George, leading his horse, on whose back Eloise was throned, and followed by Hazel and Vane, came into view of the wondering, waiting, indignant party on the piazza. The party, fickle as any mob, be it patrician or plebeian, was easily appeased with such quarry as it found, and changed itself straightway with acclaim into a bridal party. That night St. George brought in and tried upon the third finger of the white left-hand a narrow glittering band. "Nothing but a wedding-fetter?" he asked. "Yet capable of great things, that fetter! It holds the famous elixir which sinks two identities in one; it is the visible sign of a sacrament; it is to be the type of our souls' union, pure, perfect, and without end"---- But here, perhaps, the eyes of Eloise silenced him, perhaps the mouth. And when life settled in its new channel at The Rim, Eloise, wearing at last her father's name, sat at the head of her husband's table, and Mrs. Earl St. George Erne herself entertained her guests. They lingered a little while, with the disinclination that any group finds to separate, and circumstances had knitted a bond among them all. And then, when deepening summer ended the renewed cheer, Mrs. Arles put on her widow's-cap once more, her little foot went into obscurity, and the gold and ebony riding-whip hung reclaimed above her mantel. WATCHING. In childhood's season fair, On many a balmy, moonless summer night, While wheeled the light-house arms of dark and bright Far through the humid air,-- How patient have I been, Sitting alone, a happy little maid, Waiting to see, cheery and unafraid, My father's boat come in,-- Close to the water's edge Holding a tiny spark, that he might steer (So dangerous the landing far and near) Safe past the ragged ledge! No fears had I, not one. The wild, wide waste of water leagues around Washed ceaselessly, there was no human sound, And I was all alone. But Nature was so kind! Like a dear friend I loved the loneliness; My heart rose glad, as at some sweet caress, When passed the wandering wind. Yet it was joy to hear From out the darkness sounds grow clear at last, Of rattling rowlocks, and of creaking mast, And voices drawing near. "Is't thou, dear father? Say!" What well-known shout resounded in reply, As loomed the tall sail, smitten suddenly With the great light-house ray! I will be patient now, Dear Heavenly Father, waiting here for Thee! I know the darkness holds Thee! Shall I be Afraid, when it is Thou? On Thy eternal shore, In pauses, when Life's tide is at its prime, I hear the everlasting rote of Time Beating forevermore!