"I shall go before you only a little while," returned Marion, "only a very little while. A few years--how quickly they will hurry by! A few more days of labour, and your earthly tasks will be done. Then we shall meet again. And even in the days of our separation we shall not be far removed from each other. Thought will bring us spiritually near, and affection conjoin us, even though no sense of the body give token of proximity. And who knows but to me will be assigned the guardianship of the dear babe given to us by Anna? Oh! if love will secure that holy duty, then it will be mine!" A light, as if reflected from the sun of heaven, beamed from the countenance of Marion, who closed her eyes, and, in a little while, fell off into a gentle sleep. Silently did those who loved her with more than human tenderness--for there was in their affection a love of goodness for its own sake--bend over and watch the face of the sweet sleeper, even until there came stealing upon them the fear that she would not waken again in this world. And the fear was not groundless; for thus she passed away. To her death came as a gentle messenger, to bid her go up higher. And she obeyed the summons without a mortal fear. No passionate grief at their loss raged wildly in the bosoms of those who suffered this great bereavement. For years, the mother and son had daily striven against selfish feelings as evil; and now, comprehending with the utmost clearness that Marion's removal was, for her, a blessed change, their hearts were thankful, even while tears wet their cheeks. They mourned for her departure, because they were human; they suffered pain, for ties of love the most tender had been snapped asunder; they wept, because in weeping nature found relief. Yet, in all, peace brooded over their spirits.