another
direction. Not more than twenty paces from him, a stream went dancing
and bubbling across the road like a track of liquid silver--the stream
that was fed by the cool spring at home; and he remembered how he had
gazed in transport, many years agone, at the bright-hued insects
floating in the meek, golden-colored sunshine, now sinking their
velvet feet into the moist sand upon the water's brink, and sipping
tiny draughts; or, resting upon the edges of the blue and crimson
flowers that looked up like gems from the verdant grass, opening and
shutting their unruffled fans, woven of gold and sunlight. He turned
away from the scene sick at heart, but still another object presented
itself to view, awakening old memories. A little farther on yonder in
the green meadow, through which murmured the mill-stream, and by the
drooping-willow whose long branches rippled in the current, was a deep
place, in the midst of which loomed up a dark-gray rock, like a lone
sentinel to the rapid waters, and the scene made his heart bound
again. There he had angled for trout for many a summer, and looked
down delighted into the music-breathing waters, watching the silver
and mottled fishes as they went trooping swiftly past, like guests to
a fairy wedding. The tears gushed into his eyes as old recollections
came thronging to his mind, and he faltered in his determination. He
turned, and took one step toward home, but vicious impulses triumphed,
and the rainbow that had begun to arch his heart faded in darkness. He
disappeared down the slope toward the old bridge, and David White was
ruined forever.

Meanwhile Widow White had almost reached her destination. A few steps
farther on rose a little white-washed cottage, with sloping roof, and
two large china-trees embowering it in front. As she arrived at the
small trellis-work gate, a light met her eye, faintly twinkling
through the dark foliage of an intervening bough, and reflecting a
ruddy glare upon the side-walk that lay entombed in shadow. She opened
the gate, followed the narrow foot-path leading to the front door, and
found herself in a dark entry, with a few rays of light shimmering
through the key-hole of a door immediately before her. As she put her
hand to the latch, a stifled sob broke upon her ear, and noiselessly
opening the door, she glided into the apartment. It was indeed the
chamber of death. On a little table by the fire-place, amidst a number
of glasses and vials, burned