had died during the infancy of her youngest child, Ann, a year
after which her father had married again. Ann's step-mother was one of
the most beautiful women in England, and--one of the most discontented,
as the wife of a widowed clergyman who was old enough to be her father,
who had three sons and two daughters by a former marriage, and who was
trying to support his family on a hundred pounds a year. Yet, so long as
her father lived, Ann's childhood was happy. But her father, who had
been a consumptive, also died when Ann was about seven years old. Then
the family was broken up. The three step-sons went to seek their
fortunes in New Zealand. The eldest step-daughter had been married and
had gone to London a few months before her father's death; the younger
step-daughter went to live with that married sister. Ann and her
step-mother were permitted to remain at the parsonage until the
successor of Amos White could be appointed. At last the new curate
came--a handsome and accomplished man--Rev. Raphael Rosslynn. He was a
bachelor, without near relatives. He called on the Widow White and at
once set her heart at ease by begging her not to trouble herself to
leave the parsonage, but to remain there for the present at least, and
take him as a boarder. He was perfectly frank with the lovely widow, and
told her that he was engaged to his own cousin, and that as soon as he
should get a living promised him on the death of the present incumbent,
and which was worth twelve hundred pounds a year, he should marry, but
that he could not allow himself to anticipate happiness that must rise
on a grave. But in the course of the year that which might have been
expected happened, the young widow, who had never cared for her elderly
first husband, fell desperately in love with her lodger, who was not
very slow to respond, for her grace, beauty and allurements attracted,
bewildered, and bedeviled him, so that he forgot or deplored his
plighted vows to his good little cousin. To shorten the story, the
cousin released him. In a few days the curate and the widow were
married. Ann was utterly neglected, ignored, and forgotten. Her lessons,
which, before the advent of the handsome curate, had been the widow's
care, were now suspended. Time went on, and these ardent lovers cooled
off. Not that their youth or health or beauty waned; not at all; but
that their illusions were fading. Yet, as often happens, as love cooled,
jealousy warmed to life--eac