whose very depths the light of sun and stars shine down, until they
beam with tender sweetness, and inward repose. There was a glad, happy
look in her face, which came not from the fitful, feverish glow of
earth, but, like rays from an inner sanctuary, the glorious realities
of faith, hope, and love, which possessed her soul, diffused their
mysterious influence over her countenance. Thick braids of soft, brown
hair, were braided over her round, childlike forehead: and her dress of
some dark, rich color, was in admirable harmony with her peculiar
style. Her proportions were small and symmetrical, and it was
wonderful to see the serious look of dignity with which she sat in that
old crimson chair, knitting away on a comfort, as fast as her little
white fingers could shuffle the needles. For what purpose could such a
fragile small creature have been created? She looked as if it would
not be amiss to put her under a glass-case, or exhibit her as a
specimen of wax-work; or hire her out, at so much per night, to
fashionable parties, to play "_fairy_" in the Tableaux. But the wind
howled; the leafless branches of the old trees without were crushed up,
shivering and creaking against the house; the frozen snow beat a wild
_reville_ on the windows, and May's face grew very sad and thoughtful.
She dropped her knitting, and with lips apart listened intently.

"Thank God! They are come. I am sure I hear carriage-wheels, uncle!"
she exclaimed, clasping her hands together.

"Of course; I knew they would come. There was to be no such good luck
as their _not_ coming," said Mr. Stillinghast, looking annoyed. "One
sister ran off--married a papist--died, and left _you_ on my hands. I
was about sending you off again, when news came that your father had
died on his voyage home from Canton, and been buried in the deep: so
here you stayed. Brother--spendthrift, shiftless, improvident--marries