es badly and was of a proud, fretful disposition. But then
Mrs. Cheyne had lost her husband and her two children, and led such a
sad, lonely life; and no such troubles had fallen to Miss Middleton.

Elizabeth Middleton could afford to be happy, they said, for she was
the delight of her father's eyes. Her young half-brother, Hammond, who
was with his regiment in India, was not nearly so dear to the old man;
and of course that was why she had never married, that her father's
house might not be left desolate.

This is how people talked; but not a single person in Hadleigh knew
that Elizabeth Middleton had had a great sorrow in her life.

She had been engaged for some years most happily, and with her
father's consent, to one of his brother officers. Captain Sedgwick was
of good family, but poor; and they were waiting for his promotion, for
at that time Colonel Middleton would have been unable to give his
daughter any dowry. Elizabeth was young and happy, and she could
afford to wait. No girl ever gloried in her lover more than she did in
hers. Capel Sedgwick was not only brave and singularly handsome, but
he bore a reputation through the whole regiment for having a higher
standard of duty than most men.

Promotion came at last, and, just as Elizabeth was gayly making
preparations for her marriage, fatal tidings were brought to her.
Major Sedgwick had gone to visit an old servant in the hospital who
had been struck down with cholera; he had remained with him some time,
and on his return to his bungalow the same fell disease had attacked
him, and before many hours were over he was dead. The shock was a
terrible one; in the first moments of her bitter loss, Elizabeth cried
out that her misery was too great,--that all happiness was over for
her in this world, and that she only prayed that she might be buried
in the same grave with Capel.

The light had not yet come to the poor soul that felt itself afflicted
past endurance and could find no reason for such pain. It could not be
said that Elizabeth bore her trouble better than other girls would
have borne theirs under like circumstances. She fretted and grew thin,
and dashed herself wildly against the inevitable, only reproaching
herself for her selfishness and want of submission when she looked at
her father's care-worn face.

But then came a time when light and peace revisited the wrecked
heart,--when confused reasonings no longer beset the poor weak brain
and filled it