recollection darted into her mind; the pall of sleep was thrown back from
the face of grief; the dim light of the chamber, and the objects therein
revealed, had retained all her suspended ideas, and restored them as soon
as she unclosed her eyes. Again there was a quick peal upon the street-
door. Fearing that her sister would also be disturbed, Mary wrapped
herself in a cloak and hood, took the lamp from the hearth, and hastened
to the window. By some accident, it had been left unhasped, and yielded
easily to her hand.

"Who's there?" asked Mary, trembling as she looked forth.

The storm was over, and the moon was up; it shone upon broken clouds
above, and below upon houses black with moisture, and upon little lakes
of the fallen rain, curling into silver beneath the quick enchantment of
a breeze. A young man in a sailor's dress, wet as if he had come out of
the depths of the sea, stood alone under the window. Mary recognized him
as one whose livelihood was gained by short voyages along the coast; nor
did she forget that, previous to her marriage, he had been an
unsuccessful wooer of her own.

"What do you seek here, Stephen?" said she.

"Cheer up, Mary, for I seek to comfort you," answered the rejected lover.
"You must know I got home not ten minutes ago, and the first thing my
good mother told me was the news about your husband. So, without saying
a word to the old woman, I clapped on my hat, and ran out of the house.
I could n't have slept a wink before speaking to you, Mary, for the sake
of old times."

"Stephen, I thought better of you!" exclaimed the widow, with gushing