ing his brief period of marriage, was
born again by the side of death. While Philip wandered off silent and
lonely with his grief, John Lambert knelt by the beautiful remains,
talking inarticulately, his eyes streaming with unchecked tears. Again
was Emilia, in her marble paleness, the calm centre of a tragedy she
herself had caused. The wild, ungoverned child was the image of peace;
it was the stolid and prosperous man who was in the storm. It was not
till Hope came that there was any change. Then his prostrate nature
sought hers, as the needle leaps to the iron; the first touch of her
hand, the sight of her kiss upon Emilia's forehead, made him strong. It
was the thorough subjection of a worldly man to the higher organization
of a noble woman, and thenceforth it never varied. In later years, after
he had foolishly sought, as men will, to win her to a nearer tie, there
was no moment when she had not full control over his time, his energies,
and his wealth.

After it was all ended, Hope told him everything that had happened; but
in that wild moment of his despair she told him nothing. Only she and
Harry knew the story of the young Swiss; and now that Emilia was gone,
her early lover had no wish to speak of her to any but these two, or to
linger long where she had been doubly lost to him, by marriage and by
death. The world, with all its prying curiosity, usually misses the key
to the very incidents about which it asks most questions; and of the
many who gossiped or mourned concerning Emilia, none knew the tragic
complication which her death alone could have solved. The breaking of
Hope's engagement to Philip was attributed to every cause but the true
one. And when the storm of the great Rebellion broke over the land, its
vast calamity absorbed all minor griefs.

XXIII. REQUIESCAT.

THANK God! it is not within the power of one man's errors to blight the
promise of a life like that of Hope. It is but a feeble destiny that
is wrecked by passion, when it should be ennobled. Aunt Jane and Kate
watched Hope closely during her years of probation, for although she
fancied herself to be keeping her own counsel, yet her career lay
in broad light for them. She was like yonder sailboat, which floats
conspicuous by night amid the path of moonbeams, and which yet seems to
its own voyagers to be remote and unseen upon a waste of waves.

Why should I linger over the details of her life, after the width
of ocean lay between he