own.
In all the good fortune that comes as the meed of effort, she will
be a sharer."

"You will see her before you leave us?"

"No. I will neither pain her nor myself by a parting interview. Send
her this letter and this ring."

A few hours later, and the brothers stood with tightly grasped
hands, gazing into each other's faces.

"Farewell, Robert."

"Farewell, William. Think of the old homestead as still your home.
Though it is mine, in the division of our patrimony, let your heart
come back to it as yours. Think of it as home; and, should fortune
cheat you with the apples of Sodom, return to it again. Its doors
will ever be open, and its hearth-fire bright for you as of old.
Farewell."

And they turned from each other, one going out into the restless
world, an eager seeker for its wealth and honours; the other to
linger among the pleasant places dear to him by every association of
childhood, there to fill up the measure of his days--not idly, for
he was no drone in the social hive.

On the evening of that day, two maidens sat alone, each in the
sanctuary of her own chamber. There was a warm glow on the cheeks of
one, and a glad light in her eyes. Pale was the other's face, and
wet her drooping lashes. And she that sorrowed held an open letter
in her hand. It was full of tender words; but the writer loved
wealth more than the maiden, and had gone forth to seek the mistress
of his soul. He would "come back;" but when? Ah, what a vail of
uncertainty was upon the future! Poor stricken heart! The other
maiden--she of the glowing cheeks and dancing eyes--held also a
letter in her hand. It was from the brother of the wealth-seeker;
and it was also full of loving words; and it said that, on the
morrow, he would come to bear her as a bride to his pleasant home.
Happy maiden!

SCENE SECOND.

TEN years have passed. And what of the wealth-seeker? Has he won the
glittering prize? What of the pale-faced maiden he left in tears?
Has he returned to her? Does she share now his wealth and honour?
Not since the day he went forth from the home of his childhood has a
word of intelligence from the wanderer been received; and, to those
he left behind him, he is now as one who has passed the final
bourne. Yet he still dwells among the living.

In a far-away, sunny clime, stands a stately mansion. We will not
linger to describe the elegant exterior, to hold up before the
reader's imagination a picture of rural beauty