None can sorrow for ever; though that of the inmates of Carnaby Court did not pass away with the snows of winter—nay, nor with the sweet buds of spring or the roses of summer, when they climbed round the oriels and gables of the grand old mansion. Thus it was not for many months after that night of dread and dismay—that most mournful Christmas Eve—that the merry chimes were heard to ring in the old square tower of the Saxon church for the marriage of Clare and Trevor Chute, who passed, with chastened looks and much of tender sorrow, amid their long-deferred happiness, the now flower-covered garden of the gentle sister who had been indirectly the good angel who brought that happiness to pass.
THE END.
BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD AND LONDON.