from the heavy burden of contemplating so terrible a theory.

"Something to tell me, Rachel!" continued he; "and what may that be?"

"My father has told me to-day," replied she, "that he is to leave me all
his fortune; and however grieved I may be at the thought of losing him,
I am glad to think that it may be in my power to be of service to you,
Paul, as my only relative on my mother's side."

"Service," muttered Paul to himself, while he looked into her face as
wistfully as a lover, which indeed he was, though in secret. "And what
is to become of Walter Grierson?" he asked.

"When he finds that the entire fortune is mine," replied she, "he will
propose to marry me; and this is what my father wishes to bring about by
putting the fortune in my power."

"So the events crop out from the long chain of causes," thought Paul;
"but who shall tell the final issue? Look here, Rachel," he continued,
as he laid his hand on a golden locket which lay before him in the shape
of a heart, "I have made this to order;" and as he spoke he touched a
spring, whereupon a lid opened, and up flew a pair of tiny doves, which,
with fluttering wings of gold and azure, immediately saluted each other
with their long bills, and piped a few notes in imitation of the cushat.
The touch of another spring immediately consigned them again to the
cavity of the heart,--a conceit altogether of such refined manufacture
and ingenuity of design, as to remind us of the saying of Cicero, that
there is an exquisiteness in art which never can be known till it is
seen fresh from the hand of genius.