CHAPTER XXXV. Time shall teach thee what it is to grieve, And to rejoice. FRANKLIN'S SOPHOCLES. Mark how the widowed turtle, having lost And there bewails her everlasting widowhead. QUARLES. MANY weeks have transpired since I last wrote in my journal. Julia left me, and I was as one utterly desolate. I grew ill, and now I felt how exceedingly happy children can make a household. Willy came and sat by my side, and talked quite in a dear old man way, and Lily laid her little head upon my pillow, and moved a space aside to place Jenny, the doll, by my cheek. Willy held my hand, and Lily asked of my pains. "Is it in your head or in your side, dear father," she questioned in a pretty solemn way. "In neither, Lily." "Well, tell me, please, where it is, and I will make gruel and tea for you." "You cannot cure me, children," I said. Lily put her head close to my ear, and whispered, "You are so sorry that Cousin Julia is gone." "Are you not sorry also, Lily ?" "No; I do not love her, but Willy does." "Why do you not love her ?" "Because the Child Angel always goes away when Julia comes; but it loves Cousin Bertha." At this moment John True came in: he talked of the people of Beech Glen; but his great object seemed to be to cheer me, and to impress, as it were, upon my mind, that in our day women might live who were as holy, and noble, as the Prophetess of the Jews. I knew he meant Bertha. "It makes a man more sure-like of another world,” continued John, "to have seen one such woman." 'But such women have little human emotion," I said, doubtingly. "It seems to me," continued John, "that we may cut off a piece from the head of a man or a woman, and you have, after slicing from the top part, a devil (I shuddered all over at this illustration, for the top of my head is very sensitive); and then you may go on, and leave the head of one beast after another till you have only the reptile. Now, take any head and add-add to it, and you make us nearer and nearer to the angels; but the reptile, and the devil, and the purely human are all there, and must have a certain kind of action, more or less in proportion to their size-like; and they must love; or it may be, hate and sin, just as they are nearest to the good or the bad.” "That cannot be," I said; "the greatly human are not tempted as we weaker ones are tempted." John fetched a long breath. "The great heart has the most to endure; it is weak and it is strong." I thought of Bertha, and I knew he thought of her also. I could see through the transparent plans of John. "Bertha is very noble," I said, in a low voice. John fixed his eyes steadily upon my face for more than a minute, and then went on. "Parson Helfenstein, did you ever see Miss Bertha before she came to Beech Glen ?" "I think not." "Parson Helfenstein, I There is not a sign of John drew close to my side. have watched you year after year. falsehood about you; I can trust you, and I will trust you. God has made you for one another just as much as ever he made our souls to love the truth, and our eyes to love the light. I will speak.". I arose in my bed, for Bertha was in my thought like an inspiring angel. "Yes, Parson Helfenstein, I will speak. Do you remember when you were at the Sault St. Marie? What did you see there ?" "Heavens and earth! It was Bertha. A thousand times has the soul-deep voice of Bertha, her heavenly eyes, and divine patience reminded me of something which I in vain sought to recall. I see it all now. I remember an Indian wigwam-the awe of the savages. I remember a man and woman were there whom I scarcely noticed, so absorbed was I in that strange vision. A beautiful girl I saw with long hair, white as snow, and totally blind. She sang holy hymns, and replied to my words in a sweet unearthly voice. I fell upon my knees and prayed fervently, and wept also and that was Bertha !" 'Yes, it was Bertha. Her friends were unkind-my sister and I took her to this wild, solitary region till her strength came back. Her hair grew white, her eyes blind with weeping;" and John wept freely at the recital. 66 John," I said, "come, build a bower room for Bertha, here, opening to my library. Make it spacious, arch it, and alcove it; make it like the sanctuary of a saint-with cross and niche for prayer; make it lovely as a dream, with white columns and bath of marble, and interlacing vines, and tinge of rose blush-fit for a beautiful woman.” "But, Bertha "-interposed John. "build "Say nothing, my good, true friend," I replied; me a bower, and it may be that Bertha will reject me as did Julia. But there is no prophecy without its field for accomplishment. Some fair bride, in some time to come will rest in the bower we shall build, if not that of Ernest Helfenstein. CHAPTER XXXVI. And down the river's dim expanse, Did she look to Camelot; Or when the moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed; "I am half sick of shadows," said The Lady of Shalott. TENNYSON. Oh, I see the crescent promise of my spirit hath not set, Ancient founts of inspiration well through all my fancy yet. IBID. THE journal of Bertha records the absence of Julia and the illness of Ernest. "I have sent him flowers from the garden, and have taken charge of the children," she says. "I told Defiance he was ill, to which she replied: "I don't wonder! He got dead in love with that Miss Julia. I know it; I saw it.' "Well, what then, Defiance?' I replied. "Why, he ought to be ashamed of it; he, a minister of the gospel, ought to be above such vanity. Pretty wife she'd make for a minister; titrivating about, belaced and |