the heart more
freed from earthly feeling. The reward of her constancy appeared in
part bestowed on earth, for death itself was revealed to her--not as
the King of Terrors, but as an Angel of Light, at whose touch the
lingering raiment of mortality would dissolve, and the freed soul
spring up rejoicing to its home.

It was the Feast of the Tabernacle and the Sabbath eve. The
tent--formed of branches of thick trees and fragrant shrubs--was
erected, as we have seen it in a former page, a short distance from
the temple. Marie's taste had once again, been consulted in its
decorations; her hand, feeble as it was, had twined the lovely
wreaths of luscious flowers and arranged the glowing fruit. With some
difficulty she had joined in the devotional service performed by her
uncle in the little temple--borne there in the arms of old Reuben, for
her weakness now prevented walking--and on the evening of the Sabbath
in the Festival, she reclined on one of the luxurious couches within
the tent, through the opening of which, she could look forth on the
varied beauties of the Vale, and the rich glorious hues dyeing the
western skies. The Sabbath lamps were lighted, but their rays were
faint and flickering in the still glowing atmosphere. A crimson ray
from the departing luminary gleamed through the branches, and a faint
glow--either from its reflection, or from that deceiving beauty, which
too often gilds the features of the dying--rested on Marie's features,
lighting up her large and lustrous eyes with unnatural brilliance. She
had been speaking earnestly of that life beyond the grave, belief in
which throughout her trials had been her sole sustainer. Julien had
listened, wrapt and almost awe-struck, so completely did it seem as if
the spirit, and not the mortal, spoke.

"And thine own trials, my beloved one," he said,--"Has the question
never come, why thou shouldst thus have been afflicted?"

"Often, very often, my father, and only within the last few weeks has
the full answer come; and I can say from my inmost heart, in the words
of Job, 'It is good that I have been afflicted,' and that I believe
all is well. While _on_ earth, we must be in some degree _of_ earth,
and bear the penalty of our earthly nature. The infirmities and
imperfections of that nature in others, as often as in ourselves,
occasion human misery, which our God, in his infinite love, permits,
to try our spirit's strength and faith, and so prepare us for that
h