ever more could be." With the restlessness of a weary heart, he
turned over page after page, until his glance was arrested by some lines
she had evidently marked. How bitterly appropriate they seemed now as he
read,--

"Go, to a voice such magic influence give
Thou canst not lose its melody and live;
And make an eye the load-star of thy soul;
And let a glance the springs of thought control.
Gaze on a mortal form with fond delight,
Till the fair vision mingles with thy sight;
There seek thy blessings; there repose thy trust
Lean on the willow, idolize the dust!
Then, when thy treasure best repays thy care,
Think on that dread '=forever=,' and despair."

It is true these lines, evidently addressed to an unbeliever in our holy
Christianity, were not, in that respect, applicable to him, yet he felt
that the reproof came home to his own conscience; for earth had too much
engrossed his vision, and while from childhood he had been taught that
life and immortality are brought to light by the Gospel, in his
despairing grief he had almost lost sight of the blessed possibility of
being re-united to her, whom he now contemplated as a sinless spirit in
the regions of eternal bliss.

Far reaching as Eternity were the results of these hours of affliction,
and with higher and holier aims, and the determination to consecrate
life's remaining days, weeks, or years, to that service which is alone
worthy of being engaged in by immortal beings, Arthur Bernard returned
once more to the battle of life, with a heart crushed and bleeding, it
is true, but not destitute of Peace, that celestial visitant, or of
heavenly hope, pointing to a brighter and more enduring inheritance.

CHAPTER VIII.

The winter had set in unusually early. Along the bleak coast of
Newfoundland, and through its dreary and sparsely inhabited islands,
November blasts raged fiercely, lashing to fury the crested waves that
beat against the giant rocks, which, standing sentinel-like on the
shore, seemed to frown defiantly on them; or laving, far and wide, the
long, flat sand beach, that afforded less obstruction to their impetuous
progress. To a remote part of this dreary coast we would now direct the
attention of our reader. Scarcely fair, even when Summer lavished upon
it her fairest smiles, there, no traces of beauty invited the weary
pilgrim to tarry and rest within their refreshing shade; no garden, gay
with flowers,