t run round to-day and see how your mother did,
and bring her to-day's paper. I happened to be standing by the window
when the penny-post came by, and Nancy says to me, 'Jerusha,' says
she, 'do run to the door and get the Times--I haven't seen it for an
age,' for we aint no great readers at our house; so I steps to the
door and gets one from neighbor Wilkins--he is a very pleasant-spoken
man, and often drops in of a morning to have a chat with me and Nancy.
Well, what should I see the first thing (for I always turn to the
marriages and deaths) but Mr. Edward Morton's marriage to the elegant
and rich Miss--Miss--dear me! I've forgot the name now--do you see if
you can make it out," handing her the paper; "but, bless me! what is
the matter, Miss Fanny? I don't wonder you're surprised; Nancy and me
was--for we did think at one time that he had an attachment to
Aberdeen; but, la! one can't put any dependence on these wild-flys!"

The last part of the cruel sentence was wholly lost upon poor Fanny,
who sat with fixed and stony gaze upon the dreadful announcement,
while it seemed as if her heart-strings were breaking one by one. In
vain Miss Simpkins, thoroughly alarmed at length, strove to rouse her
from this stupor of grief. In vain did her dear old nurse, who ran in
affrighted at the loud ejaculations of the terrified but unfeeling
creature who had dealt the blow, use every epithet of endearment, and
strive to win one look from the poor sufferer, into whose inmost soul
the iron had entered, upon whose heart a weight had fallen, that could
never, never be uplifted again on earth. Every effort alike was
useless; and for days she sat in one spot low murmuring a plaintive
strain, rocking to and fro, with the white rose, _his_ parting gift,
tightly clasped in her pale fingers, or gazing fixedly and vacantly
upon the birds who sang still, unconsciously above her head. After a
time she became more docile, and would retire to rest at night, at the
earnest entreaties of her poor old nurse--but reason's light, from
that fearful moment, was darkened evermore. She would suffer herself
to be led out into the open air, and soon grew fond again of being
with her old playmates, the children; but her words were
unintelligible now to them, and she would often throw down the wreath
she was twining, and starting up, would exclaim, in a tone that
thrilled to one's very heart, "Oh, has he come? Are you sure he has
not come yet--_my rose_ is alm