in heaven.' And now, my dear little sister, I must bid you farewell. Don't let this trial trouble you more than you can help.

"Ever your fondly attached brother,

"ARTHUR."

Blanche had listened with almost breathless attention to her brother's letter. When she heard her papa's message, she heaved a sigh of relief, and as soon as the letter was finished, she begged her uncle to read that part again.

"Oh, I am so glad," she exclaimed, “I can bear it so much better now, for I know I shall see dear papa again. But I should have liked to have seen him again here. Oh, uncle, I should not have left him."

"It is a great deal better that you did, my little dear; for think, Blanche, what would have become of you in a foreign land, with only your brother; he would, of course, have brought you here, and then you would have had to become acquainted with us; whereas,

P

now, I hope, you have learnt to love us; haven't you?"

"Oh yes, uncle, I love you all very much, but I have been looking forward, ever since I came, to the time when papa would come back, and now I can't any more. Oh dear!"

Poor little Blanche! that day was the most unhappy she had ever spent, for she felt this trial more deeply than she had done the death of her mama, for then she had one parent left, now she had lost both.

CHAPTER XV.

ARTHUR'S RETURN.

"Though we pass through tribulation,

All will be well;

Ours is such a full salvation,

All, all is well;

Happy, still, to God confiding,

Fruitful, if in Christ abiding,

Holy through the Spirit's guiding,

All must be well."

THE next few days were passed by Blanche in grief, deep, intense grief, such as can be felt only once. Her uncle had requested that she might be exempt from lessons that week, though her aunt said it would be much better for her to go on as usual; however, as her uncle wished it, so it was. Blanche spent most of the time with Mr. Cleveland in the library, for he would scarcely permit her to be out of his sight. She did not take much notice of anything; but would sit in a corner of the

sofa, with her eyes fixed on the fire, and tears slowly chasing each other down her cheeks. She always went up to the school-room a little while before Miss Woodville left, and Fanny would then leave them alone together. Blanche's place at such times was Miss Woodville's lap, as it had ever been in their fireside talks. One evening they were sitting so, and had been silent for some time.

"Do you know, Blanche," said Miss Woodville, at length, "that you are to begin your lessons again next week?”

"Am I?" replied Blanche, in an uninterested tone.

"Yes; and I am glad for your sake that you are; for, Blanche, I have been pained by the way in which you have borne this trial; I am afraid you have been rebelling against God's will."

"No, Miss Woodville, I haven't," replied Blanche, with filling eyes; "I know it is all right, and that God loves me just as much as He did, and I feel so; but oh, Miss Woodville,

I did love papa so much, and-and-I don't know what to do sometimes, when I think he will never come back to me any more," and Blanche hid her face on Miss Woodville's shoulder.

"You will go to him, I trust, my child. I am very glad to hear you feel thus; I feared it might be otherwise. It is quite right and proper that you should grieve for your beloved papa, and sorrow will have its way for some time," and Miss Woodville's lip quivered as she spoke; "but, Blanche, dear, you don't know how you distress us all; will you not try for our sakes to overcome your grief, deep though it be?"

"I can't, Miss Woodville; everything seems to have gone with papa, and I can't think of anything but him. Uncle is very kind to me; but, oh, it is nothing like papa; and I shall never hear him talk to me any more, and say 'dear Blanche;' oh, papa, what can your little Blanche do without you!" and the poor child sobbed bitterly.