an object of contempt. As I entertained serious doubts of even Rupert's sinking so low, I felt the necessity of speak. ing to my sister on the subject of such a contingency.

"One might hesitate about accepting your money, after all, dearest sister," I said; "and it is proper you give me directions what I am to do, in the event of Rupert's declining the gift."

"I think that is little probable, Miles," answered Grace, who lived and died under a species of hallucination on the subject of her early lover's real character "Rupert may

not have been able to command his affections, but he cannot cease to feel a sincere friendship for me; to remember our ancient confidence and intimacy. He will receive the bequest, as you would take one from dear Lucy," added my sister, a painful-looking smile illuminating that angelic expression of countenance to which I have so often alluded; 'or, as that of a sister. You would not refuse such a thing to Lucy's dying request, and why should Rupert to mine ?"

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Poor Grace! Little did she see the immense difference there was in my relation to Lucy and that which Rupert bore to her. I could not explain this difference, however, but merely assented to her wishes, renewing, for the fourth or fifth time, my pledges of performing with fidelity all she asked at my hands. Grace then put into my hands an unsealed letter addressed to Rupert, which she desired me to read when alone, and which I was to have delivered with the legacy or donation of money.

"Let me rest once more on your bosom, Miles," said Grace, reclining her head in my arms, quite exhausted under the reaction of the excitement she had felt while urging her request. "I feel happier, at this moment, than I have been for a long time; yet, my increasing weakness admonishes me it cannot last long. Miles, darling, you must remember all our sainted mother taught you in childhood, and you will not mourn over my loss. Could I leave you united to one who understood and appreciated your worth, I should die contented. But you will be left alone, poor Miles; for a time, at least, you will mourn for me." "Forever-long as life lasts, beloved Grace," I mur mured, almost in her ear.

Exhaustion kept my sister quiet for a quarter of an hour,

though I felt an occasional pressure of her hands, both of which held one of mine; and I could hear words asking blessings and consolation for me, whispered, from time to time, in heartfelt petitions to heaven. As she gained strength by repose, my sister felt the desire to continue the discourse revive. I begged her not to incur the risk of further fatigue but she answered, smiling affectionately in my face"Rest! There will be no permanent rest for me, until laid by the side of my parents. Miles, do your thoughts ever recur to that picture of the future that is so precious to the believer, and which leads us to hope, if not absolutely to confide in it as as a matter of faith, that we may recognise each other in the next state of being, and that in a communion still sweeter than any of this life, since it will be a communion free from all sin, and governed by holiness?"

"We sailors give little heed to these matters, Grace; but I feel that, in future, the idea you have just mentioned will be full of consolation to me."

"Remember, my best-beloved brother, it is only the blessed that can enjoy such a recognition to the accursed it must add an additional weight to the burthen of their woe.' "Felix trembled !" The thought that even this chance of again meeting my sister, and of communing with her in the form in which I had ever seen and loved her might be lost, came in aid of other good resolutions that the state of the family had quickened in my heart. I thought, however, it might be well not to let Grace lead the conversation to such subjects, after all that had just passed, repose becoming necessary to her again. I therefore proposed calling Lucy, in order that she might be carried to her own room. I say carried; for, by a remark that fell from Chloe, I had ascer tained that this was the mode in which she had been brought to the place of meeting. Grace acquiesced; but while we waited for Chloe to answer the bell, she continued to con

verse.

"I have not exacted of you, Miles," my sister continued, any promise to keep my bequest a secret from the world; your own sense of delicacy would do that; but, I will make it a condition that you do not speak of it to either Mr. Hardinge or Lucy. They may possibly raise weak objections.

particularly the last, who has, and ever has had, some ex aggerated opinions about receiving money. Even in het days of poverty, and poor as she was, you know, notwithstanding our true love for each other, and close intimacy, I never could induce Lucy to receive a cent. Nay, so scrupulous has she been, that the little presents which friends constantly give and receive, she would decline, because she had not the means of offering them in return."

I remembered the gold the dear girl had forced on me, when I first went to sea, and could have kneeled at her feet and called her "blessed."

"And this did not make you love and respect Lucy the less, my sister? But do not answer; so much conversing must distress you."

"Not at all, Miles. I speak without suffering, nor does the little talking I do enfeeble me in the least. When I appear exhausted, it is from the feelings which accompany our discourse. I talk much, very much, with dear Lucy, who hears me with more patience than yourself, brother!"

I knew that this remark applied to Grace's wish to dwell on the unknown future, and did not receive it as a reproach in any other sense. As she seemed calm, however, I was willing to indulge her wish to converse with me, so long as she dwelt on subjects that did not agitate her. Speaking of her hopes of heaven had a contrary effect, and I made no further opposition.

"Lucy's hesitation to be under the obligations you mention did not lessen her in your esteem?" I repeated.

"You know it could not, Miles. Lucy is a dear, good girl; and the more intimately one knows her, the more certain is one to esteem her. I have every reason to bless and pray for Lucy; still, I desire you not to make either her or her father acquainted with my bequest."

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Rupert would hardly conceal such a thing from so near and dear friends."

"Let Rupert judge of the propriety of that for himself. Kiss me, brother; do not ask to see me again to-day, for I have much to arrange with Lucy; to-morrow I shall expect a long visit. God bless you, my own, dear,-my only brother, and ever have you in his holy keeping!"

I left the room as Chloe entered; and, in threading the

long passage that led to the apartment which was appropriated to my own particular purposes, as an office, cabinet, or study, I met Lucy near the door of the latter. I could see she had been weeping, and she followed me into the

room.

"What do you think of her, Miles?" the dear girl asked, uttering the words in a tone so low and plaintive as to say all that she anticipated herself.

"We shall lose her, Lucy; yes, 'tis God's pleasure to call her to himself."

Had worlds depended on the effort, I could not have got out another syllable. The feelings which had been so long pent up in Grace's presence broke out, and I am not ashamed to say that I wept and sobbed like an infant.

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How kind, how woman-like, how affectionate did Lucy show herself at that bitter moment. She said but little, though I think I overheard her murmuring "poor Miles !" dear Miles!" poor, "what a blow it must be to a brother!" "God will temper this loss to him!" and other similar expressions. She took one of my hands and pressed it warmly between both her own; held it there for two or three minutes; hovered round me, as the mother keeps near its slumbering infant when illness renders rest necessary; and seemed more like a spirit sympathizing with my grief than a mere observer of its violence. In reflecting on what then passed months afterwards, it appeared to me that Lucy had entirely forgotten herself, her own causes of sorrow, her own feelings as respected Grace, in the single wish to solace me. But this was ever her character; this was her very nature; to live out of herself, as it might be, and in the existences of those whom she esteemed or loved. During this scene, Lucy lost most of the restraints which womanhood and more matured habits had placed on her deportment; and she behaved towards me with the innocent familiarity that marked our intercourse down to the time I sailed - in the Crisis. It is true, I was too dreadfully agitated at first to take heed of all that passed; but, I well remember, that, before leaving me in obedience to a summons from Grace, she laid her head affectionately on mine, and kissed the curls with which nature had so profusely covered the last. I thought, at the time, notwithstanding, that the salute

would have been on the forehead, or cheek, three years before, or previously to her acquaintance with Drewett.

I was a long time in regaining entire self-command; but, when I did, I opened my sister's letter to Rupert, agreeably *o her request, and perused it thrice without a pause, even to reflect. It was conceived in these words :

"MY DEAREST RUPERT

"God, in his infinite and inscrutable wisdom, when you read this letter, will have seen fit to call me to himself. Let not this seeming loss, in any manner, afflict you, my friend; for I feel the humble assurance that I shall reap the full benefit of the Saviour's great sacrifice. I could not have been happy in this life, Rupert; and it is a mercy that I am taken, thus early, to a better. It grieves me to part from your excellent father, from yourself, from our precious and rightfully beloved Lucy, and from dear, dear Miles. This is the last tribute I pay to nature, and I hope it will be pardoned for its character. There is a strong hope within me, that my death will be sanctified to the benefit of my friends. With this view, and this view only, beloved Rupert, I wish you to remember it. In all other respects let it be forgotten. You have found it impossible to command your affections, and worlds would not have tempted me to become your wife without possessing all your heart. I pray daily, almost hourly" tears had evidently blotted this portion of the letter "for you and Emily. Live together, and make each other happy. She is a sweet girl; has enjoyed advantages that Clawbonny could not bestow, and which will contribute to your gratification. In order that you may sometimes think of me"-poor Grace was not aware of this contradiction in her requests "Miles will send you a legacy that I leave you. Accept it as a little fortune with Emily. I wish sincerely, it were much larger; but you will not overlook the intention, and forget the insufficiency of the sum. Smal. as it is, I trust it will enable you to marry at once, and Lucy's heart may be confided in for the rest.

"Farewell, Rupert-I do not say, farewell Emily; for 1 think this letter, as well as its object, had better remain a secret between you and me, and my brother-but I wish your future wife all earthly happiness, and an end as full