Oh, my poor master—once almost my husband—whom I had often called "my dear Edward!"

I had never seen that handsome-featured face of his look more like chiselled marble than it did just now, as he put aside his snow-wet hair from his forehead and let the firelight shine free on his pale brow and cheek as pale, where it grieved me to discover the hollow trace of care or sorrow now so plainly graved.

Twenty years ago, a poor curate—never mind his name at this moment—fell in love with a rich man's daughter; she fell in love with him, and married him, against the advice of all her friends, who consequently disowned her immediately after the wedding.

"You don't know him—don't pronounce an opinion upon him," I said, with warmth.

I am not brutally selfish, blindly unjust, or fiendishly ungrateful. Besides, I am resolved I will have a home and connections.

"The best things the world has!" I interrupted.

I want you to give up German and learn Hindostanee.

Yes; just as if you were speaking Greek. I feel I have adequate cause to be happy, and I _will_ be happy. Goodbye!

Good fortune opens the hand as well as the heart wonderfully; and to give somewhat when we have largely received, is but to afford a vent to the unusual ebullition of the sensations.

To the end of turning to profit the talents which God has committed to your keeping; and of which He will surely one day demand a strict account.