leading for me, and my soul, emerging as it were from the cold waves of
oblivion, thrilled with new-born life. Had my spirit been nearer to God
during its unconscious wanderings, and brought back with it impressions
of celestial glory never conceived before? I know not; but I know that a
change had passed over it, and that I felt the reality of that eternity,
which had seemed before a grand and ever-receding shadow.

Every day, during Richard's illness and mine, came our good and beloved
pastor, and he always left a track of light behind him. I always felt
nearer heaven when he departed than when he came, for its kingdom was
within him.

To him I confided my wish to accompany my brother on his filial mission,
and he warmly approved it.

"As surely as I believe the Lord has put it into your heart to go," said
he, "do I believe that a blessing will follow you."

Mrs. Linwood was more tardy in her sanction.

"My dear child," she said, looking at me with the tenderest compassion,
"you do not know what is before you. What will you do in that great city
without female friendship and sympathy? You and Richard, both so young
and inexperienced in the ways of the world. I will not, however, put any
obstacle in his path, for man may go unshrinking where woman may not
tread. But you, my Gabriella, must remain with me."

"Here, where the phantom of Ernest haunts my every step, where the echo
of his voice is heard in every gale, and the shadow of departed joy
comes between me and the sunshine of heaven? What can I do here but
remind you by my presence of him, whom I have banished for ever from
your arms? Let me go, my own dear mother, for I cannot remain passive
here. I shall not want female sympathy and guardianship, for Mrs. Brahan
is all that is kind and tender, and knows enough of my sad history to be
entitled to unbounded confidence. I will write to her, and be guided by
her, as if she were another Mrs. Linwood."

She yielded at last, and so did Dr. Harlowe, who cheered me by his
cordial approval. He said it was the best thing I could do for myself;
for change of scene, and a strong motive of action, might save me from
becoming a confirmed invalid. Edith wept, but made no opposition. She
believed I was in the path of duty, and that it would be made smooth
beneath my feet.

No tidings from Ernest came to interrupt the dreary blank of his
absence,--the same continuity of anxiety and uncertainty stretching on
into a hopele