The speaker paused, and sate still as a stone image. Her eyes were open, but the awed and affrighted circle could not tell for their lives on what they rested. Again, slowly lifting her hand, and pointing westward, she said— “Yes, ever-living, ever-merciful Father, Thou dost lead us. It is borne in upon my heart to know and feel that to all who hold fast their faith, there shall be a safe re-issue from the temporary gloom. Not a hair shall fall from the head of any of us. Thou wilt baptise us into sorrow, only to inspire us with wisdom, with faith, with love. Over that gloom of a little time, again the heavenly glow of Thy divine pencil, the radiance of Thy inner and inexhaustible beams of beauty, shall steal abroad; and the latter shall be lovelier, though more subdued, than the former pageant. All Thy colours of life shall be clearer, purer, more lofty, more etherial. The after-glow of our evening shall be more tenderly fair, more serenely blessed, than our noon has been strong and rejoicing. Amen!” During the latter part of this startling address, the eyes of the company had mechanically followed the hand of the speaker, and saw the colours of the sunset once more travel out, kindle anew, as it were, all over the western sky in most exquisite and trancelike beauty. It seemed as if the inspired woman had command of the elements, and that their magic limnings followed the motion of her hand; the soul within, however, did but follow the course of nature and the promptings of God. How often, in future years, did every member of that company reflect on these words with wonder, though they now somewhat offended the sense of fitness in many of those who deemed auguries of evil ill-timed as the finale of a day of youthful rejoicing. The speaker, however, rose up, and, without any apology, shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Woodburn, said “Farewell” to her young friends, and taking Millicent’s arm, walked silently towards the Grange, at whose gate her carriage and that of the Degges were waiting to take them home. All the rest followed in silence. At the gate of the Grange Mr. Woodburn pressed Mrs. Heritage to go in and take some supper, but she declined, the carriages rolled away, and the company dispersed. Harry Thorsby, however, went in, and remained for some time. But no one was inclined for supper, though a very charming one was set out, with abundance of creams, and custards, and other rural dainties. Letty was in a state of strange excitement. She appeared quite hysterical, now bursting into tears, now laughing outright, and at length sunk down in a fainting fit on the sofa. There was great alarm and agitation; but Mr. Woodburn said, “Be quiet; don’t disturb her; only stand back, and let her have air; she will soon be better.” “It is that silly, preaching woman,” said Thorsby. “What does she mean by coming here and croaking of all sorts of trouble, like a confounded old beldame as she is?”