. Too well I feel the gulf between the dead and living to
fancy that his peace could be troubled by any of the
weaknesses of mortal hearts. Indeed, he often used to tell
me that, if he died, he wanted me to marry again, if ever I
felt like doing so; but in those happy days I was always
sure that I should be taken first. It was he who was to go
first, though, and now it is for the sake of his children
that I am going to do what I never thought I could. I am
going to marry again. As they grow older and need more, I
find it impossible for me to support them, though I do not
mind how hard I work, and would wear my fingers to the bone
rather than take any other man's name after being John's
wife. But I cannot care for them as they should be cared
for. Johnny is now six, and ought to go to school, but I
cannot dress him decently enough to send him. Mary has
outgrown all her clothes, and I cannot get her more. Her
feet are too tender to go bare, and I cannot buy her shoes.
I get less and less sewing since the new dressmaker came to
the village, and soon shall have none. We live, oh so
plainly! For myself I should not care, but the children are
growing and need better food. They are John's children, and
for their sake I have brought myself to do what I never
could have done but for them. I have promised to marry Mr.
Whitcomb. I have not deceived him as to why alone I marry
him. He has promised to care for the children as his own,
and to send Johnny to college, for I know his father would
have wanted him to go. It will be a very quiet wedding, of
course. Mr. Whitcomb has had some cards printed to send to a
few friends, and I inclose one to you. I cannot say that I
wish you could be present, for it will be anything but a
joyful day to me. But when I meet John in heaven, he will
hold me to account for the children he left me, and this is
the only way by which I can provide for them. So long as it
is well with them, I ought not to care for myself.

Your sister,

Maky Lansing.

The card announced that the wedding would take place at the home of the
bride, at six o'clock on the afternoon of the 27th of June.

It was June 27 that day, and it was nearly five o'clock. "The Lord help
you!" ejaculated Pinney, as he saw, by the ashen hue which overspread
Lans