soul. If I may, I will follow in your steps, Irene; your people shall be my people, and your God my God! Once more, good-bye, dear, dear love, till we meet again in some happier land beyond the grave. Death is a cruel spoiler -that is, to us who remain-and sin casts its shadows on us all; but thanks be to God who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ."

A few more days, and Irene was laid in her last restingplace beneath the hills, with the trees she loved waving pleasantly all around; and the birds sang cheerily, and the river murmured softly, and the daisies in the emeraldgreen turf lifted their smiling eyes to the bright sunshine, and to the deep blue, unclouded sky, when the mourners left the grave-side, and returned to the home which it had pleased God to darken by sore bereavement. And a voice seemed to whisper to those sorrowful hearts—

"So more and more a Providence

Of love is understood,

Making the springs of time and sense
Sweet with eternal good."

THE day after the funeral Hilda returned to the Grey House. Walter, who had been in London attending to various concerns, came over from Bradenshope the same evening. All was now ready for the marriage; the settle

ments only awaited the necessary signatures; the trousseau was on the point of completion, and Arnheim wanted nothing but its mistress. But though Irene had begged Hilda not to defer her bridal on her account, she could not bear to contemplate the event while the shadows still rested so heavily on the family at the Blue House; nor could Walter himself urge the fulfilment of her promise, under the mournful circumstances. If the wedding took place at the time appointed, it was impossible that any of the Arnisons should be present, and without her aunt and her uncle and her beloved cousins Hilda felt that, in spite of her joy and pride in her bridegroom, there would be a certain incompleteness in the whole affair.

"Walter," she began, when they were alone together in the old-fashioned garden; "the month of roses is close at hand."

"As if I could possibly forget that !”

"And are you expecting me to keep my promise without fail ?"

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Why should I not? Is it for Irene's sake you falter ? You know she earnestly desired that our union should not on her account be postponed. At one time, I believe— Cynthia tells me so, at least she thought of requesting us to choose an earlier day, that she might, if possible, hear our wedding-bells. And we might be married very quietly."

"That could scarcely be, either at Bradenshope or at Endlestone; every man, woman, and child will know exactly the day and the hour. Besides, though I protest against any fashionable display, I should not like to celebrate the greatest event of my life without the honours due to the occasion. Nor would it please your own family, I am convinced; your father has planned a grand entertainment of the tenantry, and the school children at Endlestone and at Bradenshope have been promised some kind of fête. As for Aunt Dorothy-led, of course, by Cousin William-she contemplates all sorts of hospitalities-a regular hanging-out of the broom, I am led to understand. I should not wonder if the pigs were to have a gala of their own! I should not be surprised if I heard that the cows were to have their horns gilded, and

their tails ornamented with white bows! No, Walter; we cannot reasonably expect to be married like common folk. Are not you the heir of Bradenshope, and am not I the niece of the lady of the Manor ?"

"Now, really, Hilda, I did not think you were so conceited!

"Conceited or not, you must admit the force of what I say. We could not keep the thing quiet if we would, and we ought not for others' sakes, if we could. As Christina said, 'The heir of the Bradens must be married as becomes his dignity.""

"I should like all the world to come to my wedding, and applaud my choice; I want my marriage-day to be a day of rejoicing wherever the names of Braden and Capel are known. My father and mother mean to keep open house, and receive royally, as the inauguration, as they firmly trust, of a new and happier era."

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Wherefore, my dear Walter, we must wait a little longer. Don't be vexed with me, don't think I dread to come to you as your own; but how could our happiness be complete without the Blue House people? And how could they bear just yet to join in any festal gathering? How, indeed, could we ask it of them? Please, dear, grant me this one favour-loose me from my promise for June, and wait patiently and happily a little longer." "How much longer?

no

"Three months. Grant me that delay, and I will ask more. I will certainly be ready by the end of September. And then I think Flossie and the twins might be among my bridesmaids. The Arnisons never stand upon bare form and ceremony, I know; they would put off their mourning for one day, and wear white, I am sure; they would feel that they were only doing as dear Irene herself would wish. And aunt and uncle care very little for outward signs of mourning. I think they will be with us in September, if we do but wait till then ; they will grieve none the less for their 'child of peace that they rejoice with us at our marriage feast."

"What does Aunt Dorothy think?"

"She thinks just as I do. In fact, we have talked it all over, and she feels with me that a postponement is

unavoidable. And three months will soon be past, Walter dear! It would be such a pity to spoil the happiest day of our lives, would it not? And spoiled it would be, if we were to wed now, that is within a month, with the gloom of recent loss shadowing all the brightness, though not pressing out the sweetness from our joy."

And what could Walter do but yield? especially when Aunt Dorothy joined her suit to Hilda's, remarking, "Thou art still young, Walter-my nephew, as I deem thee now-and Hilda is but a girl, and, please the good Lord, you will have many, many years of wedded happiness, even though three months be taken from the whole period. You may well give this short space of time to decent mourning and chastened grief for her who is not dead, but gone before. Our Hilda spoke well when she said that a marriage so happy and so blessed as thine and hers promises to be, should not be solemnised under the shadow of a recent bereavement. Thou shouldst honour her, that she cannot, even for thee, sacrifice her duty and her love to the kindred who gave her so kind a welcome to their midst not two years ago. And Irene was very

precious to her; it was dear Irene's sweet talk and holy life that first led her to yearn for, and so to seek, that peace which passeth understanding. Thy beloved Hilda was a charming heathen, Walter, when first she came among us. Poor child! it was a marvel she was so pure and so good, seeing that she was bred up a mere shallow worldling, and had never been taught the simplest lessons which Christian parents teach their children. Thou, too, owest somewhat to Irene Arnison, and it is only fit that thou shouldst respect her memory, and fulfil for her those days of mourning which are due."

Sir Paul and Lady Braden were content to countenance the delay, though it interfered somewhat with their arrangements; for Lady Braden and Mrs. Arnison were old and tried friends, and "Letty " could no more rejoice while "Rosa" was sorrowful, than Hilda could be glad while the grass was not yet green on Irene's quiet grave. Christina, too, entirely coincided in the temporary delay, and Agnes was fully convinced by Sweet William that all was for the best. And so it was agreed on all hands

that the wedding should take place with due honours in the last week of September.

None of them regretted the decision, as that pleasant summer passed swiftly and calmly away; even Walter, though manifesting occasionally something of a lover's impatience, could not but confess how happily they all were waiting. Early in June Mary Sandys came to the Grey House to remain with Hilda for the rest of her maiden days, and Mrs. Dorothy thought her so charming that she began to wonder whether William Rivers might not be tempted from his allegiance to Agnes Braden, to whom he had not yet proposed. "I see thou admirest Mary very much," she said one day to her grandson.

"Almost as much as I admire Hilda," he replied, "and with the same kind of admiration. Miss Sandys is a sweet girl, and as good as gold, I feel assured, and may Providence send her as good a husband as she deserves; but don't fancy, grannie dear, that I wish to be the favoured individual. Mary charms me, but Agnes subdues me; Mary calls forth my admiration and my esteem, Agnes fills my heart with fervent love. I know now, beyond all doubt, that Agnes Braden is the one woman in all the world for me; she only I desire, and she I will win, if God please, or my name is not William Rivers! This lovely summer-time is just the season for love's young dream; it must be very pleasant to go a-wooing in such delightful weather. I feel quite inclined to know my fate at once, grannie; I think I will ask her before the hay is down."

"Didst thou ever hear the couplet

"There's nothing on earth like making love,
Save making hay in fine weather!' ?

It seems to me that thou art minded to combine the two experiences, grandson William! Well, I have no objection. Go to-day, and ask thy Agnes if thou wilt, and may God speed thy wooing."

And "Sweet William " needed no further bidding. He went off that very afternoon to Bradenshope, and formally requested Sir Paul's permission to address his daughter Agnes. The baronet gave free and ready consent; William