"Aunt Ellen was a thrifty housekeeper, and took great pride in the quantity of bed and table-linen which her niece must have. I was occupied chiefly with my wardrobe. My father did not seem much rejoiced, for he had never given up his Scotch prejudice against the marriage of first cousins; but he was a man of too much integrity to break a given promise. The summer passed, the falling leaves were musical to me, for they brought October; the month passed, but no news of the Neptune. November passed in the same manner. December began to drag its cold and dreary days along, but still no news. At length, one morning, my father entered the family parlor with a grave countenance, and a newspaper in his hand. 'Ellen, will you come into my study?' said my father to my aunt. "My heart gave a sudden bound; for I had long been so anxious, that even the fluttering of a leaf would affect me. I saw my father's face; it was ominous. Aunt Ellen returned, and sitting down by my side, she said, tenderly, 'Mary, can ye bear bad news?' "'What is it, Aunt Ellen?' I replied, starting to my feet; 'tell me, tell all; anything is better than suspense.' "She laid her hand upon my young head, and softly smoothed the rippling hair that lay upon my forehead and down my temples. "'The Neptune has foundered at sea, Mary, and Malcolm Graham is among the missing.' "I heard no more; for hours I lay stunned and insensible; for weeks, between life and death. At length, a good constitution, under the direction of a wise but inscrutable Providence, triumphed, and I awoke to take up the duties of my daily life with a sad and chastened spirit. "My father redoubled his kindness; but it was evident that Malcolm's removal was a relief. "The only request I made was: 'Do not allow Stephen Bruce to visit the manse; I could not bear it.' "My request was complied with. During all this time, I never wholly lost my hope; I would say to myself: 'Among the missing, not the lost; Malcolm may yet be alive.' "Two years of silent sorrow passed--the light of my life had gone out. I busied myself about my father's house, my brother's clothes, and in the duties belonging to me, as the minister's daughter; but joy had passed away. "I seldom saw Stephen Bruce, excepting at church; but I knew that my father visited him. Occasionally I met him by the road-side, but he never joined me. "This delicacy of conduct gained my respect; and when my father at last requested, for his own sake, that the son of his old friend might visit him, I consented; for my father had been very kind to me. "He came occasionally, was always polite and respectful to me, nothing more.