and
immortality endure. My dear sister, I ought not to repeat such things,
but the words ring in my ears like a funeral knell."

"Let us not speak of him any more at present," he added, reseating
himself at my side, and he took my hand and pressed it on his throbbing
temples. "There is sweetness in a sister's sympathy, balm in her gentle
touch."

Mrs. Brahan, who had considerately left us alone, soon entered, saying
it was luncheon time, and that a glass of wine would do us all good. Mr.
Brahan followed her, whose intelligent and animated conversation drew
our minds from the subjects that engrossed our thoughts. It was well for
me that I had an opportunity of becoming so intimately acquainted with a
married pair like Mr. and Mrs. Brahan. It convinced me that the most
perfect confidence was compatible with the fondest love, and that the
purest happiness earth is capable of imparting, is found in the union of
two constant, trusting hearts.

"We have been married seventeen years," said Mrs. Brahan, in a glow of
grateful affection, "and I have never seen a cloud of distrust on my
husband's brow. We have had cares,--as who has not,--but they have only
made us more dear to each, other, by calling forth mutual tenderness and
sympathy. Ours was not one of those romantic attachments which partake
of the wildness of insanity, but a serene, steady flame, that burns
brighter and brighter as life rolls on."

She spoke out of the abundance of her heart, without meaning to contrast
her own bright lot with mine, but I could not help envying her this
unclouded sunshine of love. I tried to rejoice with her, without sighing
for my own darker destiny; but there is an alloy of selfishness in the
purest gold of our natures. At least, there is in mine.

There was another happy pair,--Mr. Regulus and his wild Madge. A letter
from her, forwarded by Mrs. Linwood soon after our arrival in New York,
breathed, in her own characteristic language, the most perfect felicity,
mingled with heart-felt sympathy and affection. Their bridal hours were
saddened by my misfortunes; and they were compelled to leave me when I
was unconscious of their departure. Margaret was delighted with every
thing around and about her,--the place, the people, and most of all her
husband; though, in imitation of the Swedish wife, she called him her
bear, her buffalo, and mastadon. The exuberant energies of her
character, that had been rioting in all their native wildness,