d, the loving spirit shining like a lamp
through the wasted and failing walls of flesh, so do the evil grow ugly
and repulsive. Ah, Constance, the lesson is for all of us. If we live
true lives, our countenances will grow radiant from within, as we
advance in years; if selfish, worldly, discontented lives, they will
grow cold, hard, and repulsive."

I drew on my boots and coat, and started on my visit to the Allen House.
The night was in perfect contrast with the previous one. There was no
moon, but every star shone with its highest brilliancy, while the galaxy
threw its white scarf gracefully across the sky, veiling millions of
suns in their own excessive brightness. I paused several times in my
walk, as broader expanses opened between the great elms that gave to
our town a sylvan beauty, and repeated, with a rapt feeling of awe and
admiration, the opening stanza of a familiar hymn:--

"The spacious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, And
spangled heavens, a shining frame, Their great Original proclaim."

How the beauty and grandeur of nature move the heart, as if it
recognized something of its own in every changing aspect. The sun and
moon and stars--the grand old mountains lifting themselves upwards
into serene heights--the limitless expanse of ocean, girdling the whole
earth--rivers, valleys, and plains--trees, flowers, the infinite forms
of life--to all the soul gives some response, as if they were akin.

I half forgot my interest in old Mrs. Allen, as my heart beat responsive
to the pulsings of nature, and my thoughts flew upwards and away as on
the wings of eagles. But my faithful feet had borne me steadily onwards,
and I was at the gate opening to the grounds of the Allen House, before
I was conscious of having passed over half the distance that lay
between that and my home. I looked up, and saw a light in the north-west
chamber, but the curtains were down.

On entering the house, I was shown by the servant who admitted me, into
the small office or reception room opening from the hall. I had scarcely
seated myself, when a tall woman, dressed in black, came in, and said,
with a graceful, but rather stately manner--

"The Doctor, I believe?"

How familiar the voice sounded! And yet I did not recognise it as
the voice of any one whom I had known, but rather as a voice heard in
dreams. Nor was the calm, dignified countenance on which my eyes rested,
strange in every lineament. The lady was, to