ore than a lonely
house. She wanted company.

And what better company, pray, can there be than a fair young face? Who
would ask for better entertainment than to watch the lighting-up of
bright eyes, and the parting of rosy lips, or the thousand other
bewitchments of youth and beauty?

And she looked more beautiful than ever,--I suppose, because she came in
a dull time: just as flowers seem lovelier and more precious in the
winter. I fancied she was very sad, very thoughtful. Perhaps 'twas
David's going away that caused this. Perhaps she was sorry she had cast
from her such a precious thing as love.

When Emily became much worse, which was shortly after her return, she
installed herself as chief nurse, sitting for hours in the darkened
room, amusing her with children's songs and stories,--for the sick girl,
in her weakest state, craved childish things.

That was a quiet, a truly pleasant winter. After getting letters from
David, telling of his safe arrival out, everybody became more cheerful.

But in the spring, as warm weather came on, Emily grew every day weaker.
The apple-blossoms came and went unheeded.

One morning she awoke, unusually free from pain, and said to Mary
Ellen,--

"I saw David last night. He said to me, 'I shall come sooner than I
expected. But, before I come, I shall send the ruby necklace.'" Then she
described the miner's hut in which she had seen him.

This was in the first part of June.

On the day after the fourth of July we got news of his death. He had
been lost overboard, in a storm, between San Francisco and the Sandwich
Islands.

It is very sad to recall that time of deep affliction. He was the last
of five sons, all of whom had left home in full health and strength,
none of whom returned.

"Five as likely young men," said poor Miss Joey, "as ever grew up
beneath one roof."

"All five gone!" groaned the old man, as he leaned his face against the
wall.

"Five brothers waiting for me," whispered Emily, as Mary Ellen bent over
her, weeping.

"Five boys," moaned the poor broken-hearted mother,--"nobody to take
care of them, nobody to do for them, no comforts, no mother, and now no
grave!"

'Twas touching to see her husband trying to console her. Her favorite
seat was in one corner of the hard, old-fashioned settee. There she
would sit, swaying herself to and fro, whispering sometimes to herself,
"Deep waters! deep waters!"

The old man would sit close up to her, and say, so