ning all
his sadness. It was the poetry of her life. Who, therefore, can picture
her feelings when, at the end of three years, it was suddenly brought to
her knowledge that Douglas was soon to marry again, and that his choice
was Angelique Lafontaine, a French quarter-breed girl!

Angelique was amiable, and good in her way; she was also very beautiful.
But Miss Lois could have borne it better if she had been homely. The New
England woman wept bitter, bitter tears that night. A god had come down
and showed himself flesh; an ideal was shattered. How long had she dwelt
upon the beautiful love of Dr. Douglas and his young wife, taking it as
a perfect example of rare, sweet happiness which she herself had missed,
of which she herself was not worthy! How many times had she gone up to
the little burial-ground on the height, and laid flowers from her garden
on the mound, whose stone bore only the inscription, "Alida, wife of
William Douglas, aged twenty-two years." Miss Lois had wished to have a
text engraved under this brief line, and a date, but Dr. Douglas gently
refused a text, and regarding a date he said: "Time is nothing. Those
who love her will remember the date, and strangers need not know. But I
should like the chance visitor to note that she was only twenty-two,
and, as he stands there, think of her with kindly regret, as we all
think of the early dead, though why, Miss Lois, why, I can not tell,
since in going hence early surely the dead lose nothing, for God would
not allow any injustice, I think--yes, I have about decided in my own
mind that He does not allow it."

Miss Lois, startled, looked at him questioningly. He was then a man of
thirty-four, tall, slight, still noticeable for the peculiar refined
delicacy of face and manner which had first won the interest of sweet,
impulsive Alida Clanssen.

"I trust, doctor, that you accept the doctrines of Holy Scripture on all
such subjects," said Miss Lois. Then she felt immediately that she
should have said "of the Church"; for she was a comparatively new
Episcopalian, having been trained a New England Presbyterian of the
severest hue.

Dr. Douglas came back to practical life again in the troubled gaze of
the New England woman's eyes. "Miss Lois," he said, turning the subject,
"Alida loved and trusted you; will you sometimes think of her little
daughter?"

And then Miss Lois, the quick tears coming, forgot all about orthodoxy,
gladly promised to watch over the ba