ape, and then he
rushed into a chemist's shop and bought an ounce of arsenic; but after
he had purchased it, he had not heart enough to swallow it. Enraged
beyond expression--knowing not what to do, nor upon whom to vent his
rage--it suddenly occurred to him to visit Mrs Allcraft, and to worry
her with his complaints. He hurried to her house, and forced himself
into her presence. We will not follow him, for grief is sacred; and
who that had the heart of man, would desecrate the hearth hallowed by
affliction, deep and terrible as that of our poor Margaret?

CHAPTER VII.

THE VICARAGE.

Our history began at the Vicarage; there let it end. It is a cheerful
summer's morning, and Margaret sits in the study of her friend Mr.
Middleton, who has learned to look upon his charge as upon a daughter.
She is still attired in widow's weeds, but looks more composed and
happy than when we saw her many months ago there.

"You will not leave us, then," said the good vicar; "we have not tired
you yet?"

"No," answered Margaret, with a sweet contented smile, "here must I
live and die. My duties will not suffer me to depart, even were I so
inclined. What would my children do?"

"Ah, what indeed? The school would certainly go to rack and ruin."

"And my old friends, the Harpers and the Wakefields?"

"Why, the old ladies would very soon die of a broken heart, no doubt
of it; and then, there's our dispensary and little hospital. Why,
where should we look for a new apothecary?"

"These are but the worst days of my life, Mr. Middleton, which I
dedicate to usefulness. How am I to make good the deficiency of
earlier years?"

"By relying, my dear madam, upon the grace and love of Heaven, who in
mercy regards not what we have been, but what we are."

"And is there pardon for so great a sinner?"

"Doubt it not, dear lady. Had you not been loved, you never would have
been chastised--you would never have become an obedient and willing
child. Be sure, dear Mrs Allcraft, that having repented, you are
pardoned and reconciled to your Father. Pray, hold fast to this
conviction. You have reason to believe it; for truly _you have not
despised the chastening of the Lord, nor fainted when you were rebuked
of him_."

* * * * *

KIEFF.

TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN OF IVAN KOZLOFF. BY T.B. SHAW.

O Kieff! where religion ever seemeth
To light existence in our native land;
Where o'er