lowed him to claim.
Ere he left his beautiful mansion with his wife and children, they
all assembled in the parlour where still hung Willie's sweet
portrait. The calm, innocent face of the child had for their eyes a
melancholy beauty, such as it had never worn before; and they gazed
upon it until every cheek was wet, and every heart oppressed. A sale
of the furniture had been advertised for that day, and already the
house had been thrown open. Several strangers had come in to make
examinations before the hour of sale, and among them was a young
man, who on observing the family in the parlour, instinctively
withdrew; not, however before he had glanced at the picture they
were all looking at so earnestly. Aware that strangers were
gathering, Mr. Morton and his family soon withdrew, each taking a
last, lingering, tearful glance at the dear face looking so sweet,
so calm, so innocent.

Their new home presented a painful and dreary contrast to the one
from which they had just parted. In the parlours, the floors of
which were all uncarpeted there were a dozen chairs, and a table,
and that was all! Bedding barely enough for the family, with but
scanty furniture, sufficed for the chambers; and the same exacting
hands had narrowed down to a stinted remnant the appendages of the
kitchen.

It was an hour after the closing in of evening, and the family
greatly depressed in spirits, were gathered in one of the chambers,
sad, gloomy, and silent, when the servant which they had retained
came in and said that Mr. Wilkinson was below and wished to see Miss
Constance.

"Indeed, indeed, mother, I cannot see him!" Constance said bursting
into tears. "It is cruel for him to come here so soon," she added,
after she had a little regained her self-possession.

"You can do no less than see him Constance," her mother said. "Do
not lose that consciousness of internal truth of character which
alone can sustain you in your new relations. You are not changed,
even if outward circumstances are no longer as they were. And if Mr.
Wilkinson does not regard these do not you. Meet him my child, as
you have ever met him."

"We have only met as friends," Constance replied, while her voice
trembled in spite of her efforts to be calm.

"Then meet now as friends, and equals. Remember, that, all that is
of real worth in you remains. Adversity cannot rob you of your true
character."

"Your mother has spoken well and wisely," Mr. Morton said. "If Mr.