winter with their brother at Baltimore. Mr. Jorden had business at Washington, which would detain him most of the time, and thus the arrangement became not only pleasant, but advisable.

Yet Mrs. Smith and Miss Mitchell would continue to call it airs and extravagance, while Mrs. Folger wondered "if they would pay board; if not, it was a saving." Mrs. Jackson alone regretted the change. She was still, comparatively, a stranger in Rivertown, as they had resided there but a few years. She had never been particularly fond of the place or the people, and but that Mr. Jackson's presence was absolutely necessary near his large and flourishing manufactory, would never have consented even to a temporary residence there. This feeling had, in a measure, worn away, as she came to know and appreciate the warm hearts of those who won her own by their friendly courtesy; and at the time of her sister's marriage she began to look with something like satisfaction upon Rivertown as a home.

"It will be very lonely, Marian," said she, the evening before their departure; "Mary and yourself both away-but I know it will be pleasanter for you, and I will try to be as happy as possible without you."

Mrs. Jorden "rejoiced that she was of enough consequence to be missed," and, laughingly, added-"But then your particular friends, Mrs. Harden and Mrs. Folger, will still be with you, and I have no doubt Mrs. Smith will be neighbourly."

"Do not jest to-night Marian," sadly returned her sister. "I have been strangely troubled from the time Mary proposed this long separation. You know I have no faith in presentiments, but I have felt as if we should never meet again; or, if we did, not happily. Sometimes I think Archie, my precious one, may be taken from me; but that thought is too terrible. If I should

die this winter, Marie, be as a sister and a mother to the dear ones I must leave."

My best of sisters, pray do not say such horrid things," was the reply. "Are you not as well as ever? and Archie I never saw in better spirits."

Mrs. Jackson called the noble little fellow to her, and parting the thick waves of his hair, looked long and earnestly into his deep blue eyes. So earnestly, that the boy was alarmed, and begged to go back to Uncle Henry, who had promised to let him ride upon Nero; and Marian said

"Yes, run away, pet, mamma is not well. Dear sister, do not frighten us all by these dismal forebodings."

Mrs. Jackson felt that it was selfish thus to obtrude sad thoughts on their parting; and, to tell the truth, the shadow passed as the firm tread and manly tone of her husband gave warning of his approach. So the last evening glided away in mirth and song; for Mr. Jackson was never known to be more brilliant than now, pouring out sparkling anecdotes and unstudied bon mots, without thought or effort. Archie was allowed to

stay up long past his usual bed-time, as he

was an especial favourite

with "Uncle Harry," and Mrs. Jackson sang old songs they had long known and loved.

Yes, it was a very merry evening; and yet when Mrs. Jackson bade them good night, and came back to the warmly lighted parlour, a strange chill darted like an ice-bolt through her heart, and she leaned her head upon her husband's shoulder and wept.

He chided her gently, even while he drew her more closely to his heart, for she told him it was not simple sorrow at their transient separation. And then he led her to the couch where her child slumbered peacefully, and bade her mark how ruddy

was the glow upon his cheek, and how gently the drapery about him was stirred by the quiet heaving of his little form.

"What can come to disturb the happiness of our little household?" said her husband, fondly; but even as she smiled through her tears, the echo in her heart whispered "Death!"

CHAPTER II.

"She is leaning back now languid,
And her cheek is white;

Only on the drooping eyelash,

Glistens tearful light,

Cold, sunshine, hours are gone,

Yet the lady watches on."-L. E. L.

OR several weeks after the departure of Mrs. Jorden,

nothing occurred to realize even the lightest of Mrs. Jackson's sad forebodings. The gorgeous autumn

landscape slowly cast aside its wealth of golden and

crimson foliage, the summits of the Catskills became more sharply defined against the clear blue sky, and so winter was at the very door ere his approach was suspected.

There is nothing more desolate than the streets of a small country town, in a northern latitude, at the close of the fall. The sidewalks are carpeted with withered leaves that rustle to the footsteps of the few passers-by; a cloud of dust obscures the vision, while the slowly creaking signs and flapping shutters are in melancholy and discordant union. Little children hurry to and from school, with well-worn dinner baskets and faded hoods;

the solitary strips of red flannel or dark broad-cloth, that have taken the place of the merchant's flaunting display of summer fabrics, shiver in the chill blast; and the few baskets of withered apples and dark-coated chestnuts, that still linger around the doors of the various provision stores, grow darker and more shrunken as the week slips slowly by. The mellow radiance of the Indian summer has departed, the morning sun has scarcely power to dissolve the last night's frost, and the wayside pools are skirted with a brittle coating of ice. Now and then a large farm wagon creaks slowly down the street; once or twice through the day the whirl of a lighter vehicle tells you that the physician is speeding on his errand of mercy; but otherwise the silence is rarely disturbed. The sky grows dark as evening draws on, not with heaped and threatening clouds, but a leaden, heavy, impenetrable pall sweeps slowly over the horizon.

It was on such a day as this that Mrs. Jackson turned shiveringly from the door-step of her comfortable and peaceful home. She had accompanied her husband a little way on his morning walk, and had parted with a fond pressure of the hand, and a glance that told him how dearer than life he had become. Archie was playfully careering round the room with the hearth-brush for a steed, and the kitten purred in undisturbed repose before the glowing grate.

She drew her work-basket towards her, and, lying on the piles of snowy linen, found an unopened letter, received in her absence. It was from Marian, and bore the impress of her joyous spirit in every line. They were all so happy, and needed but her presence to make that happiness complete. Mrs. Butler was at the head of their elegant mansion, and Mr. Carroll grew daily more fond of his adopted daughter, who had already won for herself hosts

of new friends. They were to go to Washington in January, and Marian descanted at length on the pleasures she expected to enjoy.

Mrs. Jackson allowed the letter to fall upon the carpet, as she mused over its contents. "How can people plan for the future?" thought she; and then, vexed at herself for her own gloomy mood, she called Archie to her, and resolutely threw it aside as she listened to his childish prattle. Mr. Jackson very rarely returned until nightfall, these short, cold days, as the manufactory was a mile or two distant, upon a small stream that paid its gentle tribute to their beautiful river. So the mid-day meal was solitary; and after it was over, Mrs. Miller paid a friendly visit of an hour or two, and they chatted together of the absent ones. The cold, grey clouds were already veiling the setting sun as her visitor took her leave, and with cheerful alacrity Mrs. Jackson began to prepare for her husband's return: - the hearth nicely swept, the easy-chair in its cosiest corner, the dressing-gown thrown over it, and the slippers, embroidered by her own hand, basking in the fire-light. Through a half-open door the neat tea-table was seen, and Archie, with his soft curls dancing to his restless motion, was busied in assisting, or rather delaying a tidy servant girl in its arrangement.

Nothing could be more cheerful or more home-like, and Mrs. Jackson cast a look of satisfaction over all, as she sat down at the window to catch the first glimpse of the returning husband and father. Slowly the twilight deepened over the already silent streets. Then lights flashed from the opposite windows, and a glare for the moment filled the room as a torch was applied to the street-lamp on the corner. It was very strange that Mr.

Jackson did not come !