dreading to carry their ghastly load into the town till such warning as
was possible had been given.

Meantime Harry Scott, with his mind full of his mission, drove towards
Cacouna. He saw nothing of the people he passed, or who passed him; he
saw only the sight he had just left, except when there rushed into his
recollection for a moment the wedding-day scarcely six weeks ago, and
the certainty of happiness which then seemed to wait both bride and
bridegroom. And now? "Poor Bella!" broke from his lips, and he shuddered
as he fancied, not Bella, but his cousin Magdalen crushed down in her
youth by such a blow as this. But the momentary, fanciful connection of
the two girls, did but make him the more tender of the young widow.
"Widow!" he said the word half aloud, it seemed so unnatural, so
incredible. But while he thought, he was drawing very near his
destination; for he had at once decided that the proper thing to do was
to find Mr. Bellairs, and leave him to carry the news as he might think
best to his sister-in-law. At the door of the lawyer's office,
therefore, the reluctant messenger stopped, and went in with his face
still full of the strange excitement and trouble of his mission.

A few words can tell the happiest or the saddest news life ever brings
us; all that Harry knew could be told in two sentences, and, half
announced as they were by his looks, Mr. Bellairs instantly understood
the message, and why it was brought to him. He took his hat, and before
Harry was quite sure whether he had made him understand what had really
happened, he was halfway to his own house.

An hour later, the dray, now more carefully arranged and covered,
brought its load to the door of the house which had been so lately
prepared for the bride's coming home. For convenience' sake they carried