In the flush of happiness which immediately followed the acquittal of Mr. Woodburn, the long-deferred marriage of Ann Woodburn was celebrated. Sir Henry Clavering had proved himself a most noble and indefatigable friend through the whole dark season, and all were eager to confer on him his long and patiently sought prize, and to claim him as one of the family of the Grange. It was a pleasant morning in April when the wedding took place, the ceremony being performed by Sir Henry’s worthy uncle, Thomas Clavering, assisted by Mr. Markham, who, to his honour be it said, had most heartily protested against what he termed the atrocious prosecution of Mr. Woodburn. Not only was the outward spring breaking forth with her buds and dews and violets, but the inner spring of peace and joy was come back to the lovely fields of Woodburn. We need not say that all Woodburn, many friends from Castleborough, Cotmanhaye Manor, and all round there, some even from Rockville, had flocked to this auspicious scene, and many a warm wish was sent after the happy pair as they dashed away after the breakfast at the Grange, in Sir Henry’s carriage, on their way towards Paris. God’s blessing go with them, was the fervent prayer of the crowd of felicitating friends, as it is ours. When they were gone, and the friends too, and that silence and strange vacancy fell on the house, which is deep in proportion to the love for the fair inmate carried away, Letty, who had worn on that morning something of her former bloom and gaiety, dashed with happy tears, said to her mother and father as they sat together in their old sitting-room, “None of us will ever forget the presentiment of Mrs. Heritage at our memorable May fête, for how strangely has it been realised? But perhaps you have forgotten that she pointed to an afterglow, and said that the days after the gloom should be more lovely and happy than before. As that dear, good woman spoke truth in one part of her prediction, I shall believe that she did in the other. Is not the present happy issue of that hideous, odious darkness a proof and a commencement of it? Is not this happy day another proof? And now I will read you a letter from my husband, which, though it may seem to you sad, is to me full of the happiest confidence.” “What! have you at last heard from Thorsby again?” said her mother. “Yes, dear mother; it is now seven months since I heard, and I began to have some serious fears of what might have befallen him: but you shall hear:— “Cincinnati, March 7th, 18—.