s rank and wealth. I came to this land of
promise ten years ago, in search of an estate for my child; and I
have found it, at last. Ah, Doctor"--and site glanced upwards as she
spoke--"His ways are not as our ways. And if we will only trust in Him,
He will bring such things to pass, as never entered into the imagination
of our hearts. I did not dream of this man as the husband of my child,
when I gave my business into his care. The remote suggestion of such
a thing would have offended me; for my heart was full of false pride,
though I knew it not. But there was a destiny for Blanche, foreshadowed
for me then, but not seen."

"It is the quality of the man," I said, "that determines the quality
of the marriage. She who weds best, weds the truest man. The rank
and wealth are of the last consideration. To make them first, is the
blindest folly of the blindest."

"Ah, if this were but rightly understood"--said Mrs. Montgomery--"what
new lives would people begin to live in the world! How the shadows
that dwell among so many households--even those of the fairest external
seeming--would begin to lift themselves upward and roll away, letting in
the sunlight and filling the chambers of discord with heavenly music! I
have sometimes thought, that more than half the misery which curses the
world springs from discordant marriages."

"The estimate is low," I answered. "If you had said two-thirds, you
would have been, perhaps, nearer the truth."

Blanche crossed the room, and came and stood by her mother's chair,
looking down into her face with a loving smile.

"I am afraid the journey has been too much for you," she said, with a
shadow of concern in her face.

"You look paler than usual."

"Paler, because a little fatigued, dear. But a night's rest will bring
me up even again," Mrs. Montgomery replied cheerfully.

"How is the pain in your side, now?" asked Blanche, still with a look of
concern.

"Easier. I scarcely notice it now."

"Blanche is over anxious about my health, dear girl!" said Mrs.
Montgomery, as the bride moved to another part of the room. "She thinks
me failing rapidly. And, without doubt, the foundations of this earthly
house are giving way; but I trust, that ere it fall into ruin, a house
not made with hands, eternal, in the heavens, will be ready for my
reception."

There was no depressing solemnity in her tones, as she thus alluded to
that event which comes to all; but a smiling cheerfulness of manner