weary soul who came to Him; so, leaving little Mamie in care of
Eddie and Allie, she retired to her room to weep and also to pray.
She was literally following the injunction of her Saviour--praying
to her Father in secret that He might reward her openly. The
reward she longed for was that He would protect her husband and
influence him to walk aright.

As she was thus alone--and yet not alone, for God was with her--
her memory took her back to the sunny days of her girlhood. How
bright those halcyon days appeared! She was in fancy again walking
amid the green fields and by the hedgerows of dear old England,
plucking the daisies from the meadows and listening to the sweet
strains of the lark as it carolled its lay to the morning. Sunny
visions of the past, with loved faces wandering in their golden light,
flitted before her; and her heart was filled with sadness as she
remembered the breaks that Time, with his relentless hand, had made
in that once happy number. She found herself unconsciously repeating--

"Friend after friend departs--
Who hath not lost a friend?
There is no union here of hearts
That hath not here an end."

Then the thoughts of the days when Richard Ashton came wooing,
of moonlight walks, of music and literature--these incidents of joyful
days flitted before her, each for a moment, and then vanished
away, like dissolving views. Some who sought her then were now
opulent, filling positions of honor and great responsibility; and some
of her associates who then envied her, because she was more
sought after than they, were now presiding over palatial homes.