you have inspired me with a new
spirit. The recollection that you have not deemed me so utterly
unworthy, will never, never leave me; it shall cling to me, and if evil
assail me, that fond thought shall overcome temptation. The vain
longings for a more stirring profession shall no more torment me, it is
enough _you_ have not despised me; and however irksome may be my future
duties, they shall be performed with a steadiness and zeal which shall
procure me esteem, if it do no more, and reconcile my conscience to my
justly offended Maker. If, in future years, you chance to hear the name
of Arthur Myrvin spoken in terms of respect and love, you will trace
your own work; and oh, Emmeline, may that thought, that good deed, prove
the blessing I would now call down upon your head."

He paused in strong and overpowering emotion, and Emmeline sought in
vain for words to reply; they had reached the entrance to Mrs.
Langford's little garden, and now the hour had come when they must part.
"Farewell, dearest Arthur, may God bless you and give you peace! Leave
me now," she added, after a moment's pause. But Arthur could only fix
his eyes mournfully on her face, as though her last look should never
leave him; then, suddenly, he raised her hand to his quivering lip. One
moment, through blinding tears, he gazed on that dear being he loved so
well; yet another moment, and he was gone.

Emmeline leaned heavily against the little gate, a sickness as of death
for a moment crept over her and paralysed every limb; with a strong
effort she roused herself and entered the cottage, feeling greatly
relieved to find Mrs. Langford was absent. She sunk on a low seat, and
burying her face in her hands, gave way for the first time to a violent
burst of tears; yet she had done her duty, she had acted rightly, and
that thought enabled her to conquer the natural weakness which, for a
short time, completely overpowered her, and when Mrs. Langford returned,
no signs of agitation were evident, except a more than ordinary
paleness, which in her present delicate state of health, was easily
attributable to fatigue.

Now it so happened that Widow Langford possessed a shrewdness and
penetration of character, which we sometimes find in persons of her
class, but which was in her case so combined, from long residence in Mr.
Hamilton's family, with a delicacy and refinement, that she generally
kept her remarks very much more secret than persons in her sphere of
lif