"It is a late hour, Mr. Atherton, to call, but very urgent business has made it imperative on me to lose no time."

The tones of Guy's voice were manly and straightforward. He seemed quite prepared for his host's show of resentment and reserve.

"My regiment is ordered to the Crimea in three weeks. Under any circumstances, I could not have gone out without coming to you, to express my deep contrition and sorrow for past offences, and to ask you, as a Christian and a clergyman, to forgive what I have bitterly repented, and to extend such an act of grace as should have induced you, at least, to shake hands with me, even if we could be no more friends. But now circumstances are changed. She whom I so deeply injured,-whom I have never for one moment ceased to love and reverence,-Margaret,—is again my own, and by her desire I have come here to tell you so." Ralph's eyes shot sparks of fire. "And who says that Margaret has so forgotten what is due to herself-to me-to her family?"

"I say it, Mr. Atherton, on the word and honour of a gentleman, though I see you do not think I deserve the title; and more than that, Margaret herself says it, if you will read this." And Guy held out Margaret's letter, written in her own clear characters, to her brother, who was too bewildered and angered to venture on breaking the seal.

"There has been some over-persuasion,-some woman's work,-some interference somewhere, -or Margaret would never have taken such a step without consulting me. Aunt Sarah, with her weakness for patching up quarrels, her 'peace principles,' as she calls them,-"

Ralph was working himself up into a fury against his visitor, who stood so provokingly upright and calm, as if, in penance of his past sins, he was determined to bear meekly every galling sting Margaret's brother could hurl at him.

"Any thing that a soldier can hear and be silent, Mr. Atherton," Guy said, in a quiet firm voice, "I have made up my mind to listen to from you, and any explanation you like to ask for, I feel bound to answer fully and freely; but an insinuation against your sister-against Margaret-I am bound now to resent. You must, I warn you, be careful how you allow her name to be called in question in my presence. If you would only give yourself time to read her letter, you will find that neither Miss Waldron nor any one else had any part in the transaction. It occurred under Lord Redenham's roof, and with the full and free sanction of him and his wife."

"Not content with making a fool of herself for the sake of a girl's love-fancy, Ethelind is now weak enough to entangle Margaret in the same misery," Ralph said bitterly. "Redenham has already come between me and my interests once; I suppose he is trying another tack now to annoy and provoke me."

Guy's patience was well-nigh spent. He took up his cap from the table. “Atherton," he said, in a quiet determined tone, "I have neither time nor inclination to bandy words with you longer. My stay in England

is very short, and I have much to do before I leave. We can none of us recall the past; but we can forgive it and forget it. Margaret has done so. This morning-accidentally-her unchanged love for me was suddenly revealed. Mine has never wavered; and with the full consent of Lord and Lady Redenham, it is fixed that our marriage takes place on Saturday."

"Impossible!" Ralph broke in. "Surely you must be mad. Margaret must have lost her senses. You tell me you are going with your regiment to the Crimea. Margaret can scarcely be so lost to all sense of propriety as to marry you under such circumstances. Captain Vyvian, tell her from me I protest against it as her nearest relative."

"If any thing could be an argument in my favour, surely it would be the unreasonable violence you have shown in this interview, Atherton. How could I trust your sister to you, after your open avowal of dislike to me? But that is not the question; it only makes it doubly my duty to give her a legal claim to the shelter my name and means will give her during my absence; but as neither life nor death will now change us, and as I have the duties of my profession to attend to, it gives us the right to be together until the vessel sails in which my passage is already taken. It may seem to those who do not know the secret somewhat hurried; but it cannot to the friends who know that for the last ten years-ay, from the hour when your father and you, Atherton, first took compassion on the friendless boy sent to England to make his way among strangersmy boyhood's devotion and my manhood's unswerving love have been offered up, without a moment's change, to your sister Margaret."

As Guy ceased speaking, a slight, frail little figure appeared at the half-open door, and Katie came in and stood beside Ralph. "This can be no other than Guy Vyvian. Oh, I am so glad!" she exclaimed, and frankly holding out her hand. "Captain Vyvian, the only blessing we needed to make our own already full cup overflow, was the assurance that Margaret's love had at last been rewarded, after so much patient suffering as she has borne. If this really has been Lady Redenham's doing, most sincerely do I thank her. I am sure she amply atones for any shortcomings on our own parts, in the happiness she will confer on Margaret."

A bright answering smile played over Guy's face. "For Margaret's sake, Mrs. Atherton, you must let me thank you for your kind reception of a stranger; to you I shall not fear to trust our cause. Time was when Atherton and Vyvian were names which were seldom heard separately; and though your husband has seemed little inclined to listen to me to-night, I think I may safely leave it to you to win him over to our side. It would be a sad disappointment to Margaret, as well as myself, if you are not present at our wedding. It is Margaret's first request in my behalf; it may be it will be my last."

Guy's voice dropped; a thought would haunt him, in spite of a soldier's love of active duty, that this gleam of brightness, after such a long over

cast sky, could but be the foretaste of that future brighter Heaven which is in store for all who bravely do their best to overcome evil, and which perhaps even now might be awaiting him.

The trembling lip, and ashy cheek, and moist eye, did more to unlock Ralph's old love than a thousand words. He came up to his old friend; one hand rested on Katie's shoulder, the other was stretched out to Vyvian.

"Guy," he said warmly, "forgive my hasty temper. I frankly own to you that I have hated you with a bitter hatred, which has grieved Margaret, and often made shame burn my own cheeks, when I tried to preach forgiveness to others."

"Vyvian, I cannot join you," Ralph said, when they had talked it all over; and by degrees he found himself insensibly lapsing into his longforgotten tones of familiarity with his boyhood's friend. "This funeral at Grafton, and the circumstances which make me chief mourner, preclude the possibility of such a thing. Moreover, I could not be a guest at Lord Redenham's. But to convince you that Margaret's interests are my first care, that I fully and freely acknowledge you my brother,-I will be with Margaret at Portsmouth when you set sail. She will perhaps want me more then than she does now."

The Twice-Wedded.

I.

"WHEN, as a girl, with future-seeking eyes,
I learnt those bloody tears which make us wise,
By marrying into perfect womanhood,
Few hopes were mine, and wishes few but good:
How to make glad one little happy place
Where he and I might worship God aright-
Some little happy home that I might grace,
And day by day grow nearer to the light
Of my own love reflected on his face.

Are mine eyes opened? Is my breast laid bare?
Ah, no, no, no! if love survive in duty.

And if his face seem vacant of the rare

Calm faith that maketh common things seem fair,

The dimly mirror'd beauty

Of mine own love, for ever lingering there,

Usurps the mind he will no longer share

Mine own strong faith, which lives through shade and shine, Reflected in his heart, is still divine,

And evermore unites us unaware.

"I reached his stature in a bridal kiss.
If love in that sweet time of dawning bliss
Existed, must it not survive in this

Sad time when still upon his strength I lean?
Why do the shadows seem to stand between
Myself and my beloved, while I miss
His stature, and seem mean?

"We dwell together, 'mong these lands of ours,
In this white mansion, high upon the hill
Above the village; and, with snows or flowers,
The changeful seasons come and go at will.
The long blue river yonder, dimly rolled
Past farms with slips of sunshine on their eaves,—
Now trails the harvest in its skirt of gold:
The sun-tanned reaper binds the bearded sheaves,
The gleaners glean, the farmer's heart rejoices,
And many villagers lift up their voices

For cheer of flocks and beeves.

So, wheresoever sun or shadow creeps,
The strong man sows and reaps,

The strong man garners while the woman weeps.

I sowed, though now I ask what Love
What do I reap, or glean ?"

may mean-

The lady shed no tear, but, looking out,
Saw the red hunt return with song and shout;
Then, deaf to sorrow and her sad behests,
Walked to the threshold as they trotted by,
And, clear and calm as any summer sky,
Smiled welcome on her husband and his guests.

II.

Years passed; until there came a day when Fate
Levelled the man and woman from their height
Of easeful riches to a poor estate.

The man awoke, a beggar, in the night,
And, turning to the woman where she lay,
Said: "God at last has willed to take away
My fortune, place, and honour in this land,
Wherein we dwelt in affluence yesterday:
I bow my human head to His command,
And strive to conquer sorrow, as men may.
But briefly, let us pluck up heart, and go,
Adventurers, to some strange foreign strand,
Where we may labour bravely, hand in hand,
To conquer present woe."

Whereat she kissed him, saying, "Be it so!"
And would have fallen upon his neck, and cried
Aloud in tears, that God, who gave the blow,
Had blest her, separating love from pride,
And willing well that man and wife might know
A closer, holier labour, side by side-
Helpmeets, not prisoners. But her voice denied
Her heart; and, shedding tears, she murmured low:
"Women are less than women when untried."

The man and weaker woman sailed together
Toward the morning sun in autumn weather:
Two lives, toward an unknown future hurled,
Seeing but little light in heaven above;
Two hearts, with little left them in the world,
With nothing in the world, not even Love.

So, poor in all the world, being love-bereft,
The man and woman left

Their youth behind them, all the lost delights