She thought of her uncle's generosity and unvaried kindness during the many years she had dwelt under his roof, and scarcely felt that it was not her own.

And then there stole up the image of her lost mother; the wan, but saint-like face, and the heavenly smile with which she pointed upward, and bade her child prepare for the glorious union, in that mansion which Jehovah assigned to those who are faithful on earth.
Poor Mary's heart was sad indeed; yet there was no bitterness in her soul, no rebellious feelings toward Almighty God, who had thus afflicted her so sorely.

She wiped away her tears, and calming herself as much as possible, repeated, in a faltering voice, the beautiful hymn commencing "I would not live always." She paused at the conclusion of the second verse; but Florence did not lift her head, and hoping to cheer her, she finished the hymn.
Twilight had fallen on the earth, and the blue vault of heaven was studded with its myriad lamps.

The new moon glittered like a golden thread--low in the west--and seemed almost to rest upon the bosom of the stream, as it curved in the distance to meet the horizon.
"Come, Florry, you must not stay out so late; I am afraid you will take cold!" Florence rose mechanically and accompanied her.
"Oh, Florry, do try and trust in God, and believe that in every trial and affliction he will comfort and assist us." Her cousin sighed heavily, but made no reply.
As they reached the gate it was quickly opened, and the Padre met them: he bowed coldly to Mary, but shook hands with Florence, and promised to come again the ensuing day.

It was so late that Mary could not distinguish his features; but just as he turned to go, Aunt Fanny threw open the kitchen door, and the light streamed full on his face; their eyes met, and she started at the smile of triumph that irradiated his dark countenance: he bowed, and passed on.
Mary hastened down the walk, and entered the sick room, fearing she scarcely knew what.