an to
continue a dialogue which only aggravated her sufferings.

"I trust and hope, dear Una," he said, "that you will observe my
father's advice, and make at least a worthy effort to support yourself,
under what certainly is a heavy affliction to you, in a manner becoming
your own character. For his sake--for my mother's, and for mine, too,
endeavor to have courage; be firm--and, Una, if you take my advice,
you'll pray to God to strengthen you; for, after all, there is no
support in the moment of distress and sorrow, like His."

"But is it not strange, John, that such heavy misfortunes should fall
upon two persons so young, and who deserve it so little?"

"It may be a trial sent for your advantage and his; who can say but it
may yet end for the good of you both? At present, indeed, there is no
probability of its ending favorably, and, even should it not, we are
bound to bear with patience such dispensations as the Great Being, to
whom we owe our existence, and of whose ways we know so little, may
think right to lay upon us. Now, God bless you, and support you, dear,
till I see you again. I must go; don't you hear the jaunting-car driving
up to the gate; be firm--dear Una--be firm, and good--by!"

Never was a day spent under the influence of a more terrible suspense
than that which drank up the strength of this sinking girl during
the trial of her lover. Actuated by a burning and restless sense of
distraction, she passed from place to place with that mechanical step
which marks those who seek for comfort in vain. She retired to her
apartment and strove to pray; but the effort was fruitless; the
confusion of her mind rendered connection and continuity of thought and
language impossible. At one moment she repaired to the scenes where they
had met, and again with a hot and aching brain, left them with a shudder
that arose from a withering conception of the loss of him whose image,
by their association, was at once rendered more distinct and more
beloved. Her poor mother frequently endeavored to console her, but
became too much affected herself to proceed. Nor were the servants less
anxious to remove the heavy load of sorrow which weighed down her young
spirit to the earth. Her brief, but affecting reply was the same to
each.

"Nothing can comfort me; my heart is breaking; oh, leave me--leave me to
the sorrow that's upon, me."

Deep, indeed, was the distress felt on her account, even by the
females of her father's ho