her face in her hands and remained in thoughtful silence--a feeling
too reverential for words, as something too sacred for intruding
upon.

And now the New Year had been welcomed in. The moon, in all her
majesty, witnessed the solemn pageant; and unseen choristers wafted
the tidings from pole to pole.

"Another year," murmured Marguerite, as she gently raised the
casement and looked out upon the beauty of the scene. Queen Square,
studded with tributes to the Loyalists, was peaceful as the grave.
Beyond was the calm, blue water of the harbor; while here and there
a white sail upon its bosom added to the effect. Peace reigns over
the city, and the lights have at last disappeared from the Verne
mansion. Let us take the liberty to mention a few facts that may be
necessary ere we proceed further.

The Vernes belonged to a genteel and respectable family. They did
not lay claim to an aristocratic ancestry, but for generations could
reckon on a spirit of proud independence and honest worth. Mr. Verne
was a man of honor and sound principles in every sense of the word;
and he always tried to inculcate those principles in the minds of
his children. If he daily saw in his first-born traits of character
which he openly condemned and censured, there stood in bold relief
upon his heart the pure, high and noble character of his delicate
Marguerite. Nor was he to be disappointed in the younger scions of
the family. Fred. Verne was a noble, manly boy of fifteen, and gave
promise of being a good and upright citizen; while the precocious
Charlie, despite the daily amount of spoiling received in the
domestic circle, was a clever little fellow, as ready with an answer