There are moments when the world about us seems to pause; when the hopes, fears and experiences of all humanity appear to sway away and leave us standing alone in the presence of our own great hope or scarcely comprehended fear. Such a moment was that which saw Paula re-enter Jacqueline’s presence with Mrs. Hamlin at her side. Leaving the latter near the door, she went towards the bed. Why did she recoil and glance back at Mrs. Hamlin with that startled and apprehensive look? The face of Jacqueline was changed—changed as only one presence could change it, though the eyes were clearer than when she left her a few minutes before, and the lips were not without the shadow of a smile. “She is dying,” whispered Paula, coming back to Mrs. Hamlin; “dying, and you have waited so long!” But the look that met hers from that aged face, was not one of grief; and startled, she knew not why, Paula drew aside, while Mrs. Hamlin crossed the room and quietly knelt down by her darling’s side. “Margery!” “Jacqueline!” The two cries rang through the room, then all was quiet again. “You have come back!” were the next words Paula heard. “How could I ever have doubted that you would!” “I have been driven back by awful suffering,” was the answer; and another silence fell. Suddenly Jacqueline’s voice was heard. “Love slew me, and now love has saved me!” exclaimed she. And there came no answer to that cry, and Paula felt the shadow of a great awe settle down upon her, and moving nearer to where the aged woman knelt by her darling’s bedside, she looked in her bended face and then in the one upturned on the pillow, and knew that of all the hearts that but an instant before had beat with earth’s deepest emotion in that quiet room, one alone throbbed on to thank God and take courage. And the fire which had been kindled to welcome the prodigal back, burned on; and from the hollow depths of the great room below, came the sound of a clock as it struck the hour, seven! XLVI. THE MAN CUMMINS. “Oh day and night, but this is wondrous strange.”—HENRY V. “Shut up in measureless content.”—OTHELLO. The lights were yet shining in Mr. Stuyvesant’s parlors, though the guests were gone, who but a short time before had assembled there to witness the marriage of Cicely’s dear friend, Paula. At one end of the room stood Mr. Sylvester and Bertram, the former gazing with the eyes of a bridegroom, at the delicate white-clad figure of Paula, just leaving the apartment with Cicely. “I have but one cause for regret,” said Mr. Sylvester as the door closed. “I could have wished that you and Cicely had participated in our joy and received the minister’s benediction at the same moment as ourselves.”