d once when her father
was grumbling and predicting bad luck to his evil genius, as he called
him, she brought forth and displayed, with a grateful heart, this
notice to prove she had not loved unworthily.

Her father listened with interest to the extract from the speech and
the comments relative to the speaker. He had been considerable of a
politician, and as Ernest was of the same party as himself, he felt
really glad of his brilliant prospects.

"In all probability he is married long ago, and has almost, if not
quite, forgotten you, Constance. At any rate, you see your sending him
off did no hurt. Men are sensible; they don't die of love. Something
more formidable, in the way of disease, must attack to carry them off,
or affect their minds, either. Yes, yes, child, be sure he has
transferred his affections long ago," remarked the father.

"I cannot tell, father. Perhaps it is so; you can judge of man's
constancy better than I. If I judged him, it would be by my own heart,
then I should be sure he is not married. I think that when alone, and
freed from the care and toil of business, or, at rest from his
studies, that his mind wanders back to the girl of his love. No! no!
he has not forgotten me."

One after another of the joyous new years rushed into the world,
passing on to maturity, growing older, and finally passing out,
leaving the gentle, submissive girl, as they had found her, devoting
herself to her father.

Now disease had settled on Mr. Lyle. For years he had been an invalid,
nervous, fretful and impatient. No one but Constance could suit him.
Not even his wife. Her gentle hand, only, could soothe his suffering.
Her soft, loving tones alone would quiet his paroxysm of nervousness.

Time passed on, and Death entered the home of Constance, not to
disturb the long-suffering father, but taking the apparently healthy
mother. Swiftly, quietly, and without suffering, she passed from her
slumbers to the home of her Maker.

This was a terrible trial for the poor girl. She almost sank under it;
but in a little while she rose above her own sorrows. Bowing with
submission to the will of God, she now felt why it was her young hopes
had been blasted. Before, all was dark; now, she saw plainly. She
alone was left to cheer and solace the stricken father. No longer a
single regret lingered in her heart. All was well. A holy calm broke
over her, and she became almost happy, blessed with an approving
conscience.

Suf