destitute of worldly means. I had an ample
fortune which I inherited from my mother, besides the manor house and
the landed estates of my grandfather; but I was destitute in the deepest
sense; I had nothing of my own to love; I was alone. Do you know what
that word alone means, 'when hope and the dreams of hope lie dead?' No,
Ada, you cannot, God grant you never may. At length there dawned that
rich, golden autumn day, when you named Cora, and gave me the right to
say 'My.' The surprise was so great to me that I scarcely knew whether I
was moving about in a dream, for my existence had been so long void of
interest that I deemed happiness for me dead. But when I took Cora in
my arms, and looked into the wondrous eyes, and saw the love, the
purity and the delicate sensibility of the being to whom I could always
in the future say 'My,' a new world and a new existence seemed before
me, and I thought angel voices thus whispered and said, 'We have brought
this beautiful child into your life to dwell forever as a sweet, fair
flower in the garden of your heart.' And as the child grew and talked
and called me by my name, the music of its voice and footstep gladdened
my soul and sent a thrill of joy through my whole being. Ever since the
day of our shipwreck, when you were lying on the beach so near death
that I did not dare to allow myself to believe that you could live, (and
may I say it, Ada, without seeming vain), when I was made the instrument
to call you back to life. Ever since that day until this, you and Cora
have seemed to belong to me; to be mine to love and live for. So you see
you have brought back the sunshine into my life. I have finished; I
shall never again talk in this way. My study shall be to brighten, not
to sadden, the path which lies before you in the future."

Anna Vyvyan kept her promise to the end.

CHAPTER XIII.

The heart that has been mourning
O'er vanished dreams of love,
Shall see them all returning,
Like Noah's faithful dove.
And hope shall launch her blessed bark
On sorrow's darkening sea.

* * * * *

I have had joy and sorrow; I have proved
What lips could give; have loved and been beloved;
I am sick and heart-sore,
And weary, let me sleep;
But deep, deep,
Never to awaken more!

It was September again, and the golden rod and fall asters, that had for
seven seasons been Cora's delight, wer