ard
was convalescent, was under the same roof with me, and would see me as
soon as I could bear the meeting.

"Ernest knows that he is my brother,--he knows that I am innocent," I
exclaimed, my whole soul trembling on his answer.

"I trust he knows it now," he replied, with a troubled countenance. "His
mother has written and told him all. We were ignorant ourselves of this,
you must recollect, till Richard was able to explain it."

"And he went away believing me a wretch!" I cried, in a tone of
unutterable agony. "He will never, never return!"

"My dear child," replied Dr. Harlowe, in an accent of kind authority,
"you have no right to murmur; you have been spared the most awful
infliction a sovereign God could lay upon you,--a brother's life taken
by a husband's hand. Praise the Almighty day and night, bless Him
without ceasing, that He has lifted from your bosom this weight of woe.
Be reconciled to your husband's absence. Mourn not for a separation
which may prove the greatest blessing ever bestowed upon both. All may
yet be well. _It will be_, if God wills it; and if He wills it not, my
dear child, you must then lay your hand on your mouth, and your mouth in
the dust, and say, 'It is the Lord, let Him do what seemeth good in His
sight.'"

"I know it,--I feel it," I answered, tears raining on my pillow; "but
let me see my brother. It will do me good."

"By and by," said he; "he is not very strong himself yet. The young
rascal! if he had only confided to me the secret with which his heart
was bursting! But there is no use in crying over burnt bread. We must
keep it out of the fire next time."

The entrance of Edith checked this conversation, and it was well. She
came with her usual gentle motion, and fair, pitying countenance, and
diffused around her an atmosphere of divine repose. My brain, relieved
of the dreadful tension of suspense, throbbed soft and cool beneath the
snow of her loving fingers. She, too, was pale and wan, but she smiled
upon me with glistening eyes, and whispered words of sweetest
consolation.

It was not till after the lapse of several days that I was permitted to
see Richard, and then the doctor said he deserved a good whipping for
insisting on coming. He came into the room leaning on the arm of Dr.
Harlowe, and supported on the other side by Mrs. Linwood. He looked like
the shadow of his former self,--so white, so thin and languid, and his
countenance showed as plainly as words could sp