As we stood in a group outside the gate, papa came by. Seeing me, he naturally stopped, took off his hat to Mrs. Heriot, and spoke. That is how the acquaintanceship began, without formal introduction on either side. Taking the pretty little girl in his arms, he began talking to her: for he was very fond of children. Mrs. Heriot said something to him in a low, feeling tone about his wife's death.
"Yes," he sighed in answer, as he put down the child: "I shall never recover her loss. I live only in the hope of rejoining her there."
He glanced up at the blue sky: the pure, calm, peaceful canopy of heaven.
CHAPTER II.
CHANGES.
"I SHALL never recover her loss. I live only in the hope of rejoining her there."
It has been said that the vows of lovers are ephemeral as characters written on the sand of the sea-shore. Surely may this also be said of the regrets mourners give to the departed! For time has a habit of soothing the deepest sorrow; and the remembrance which is piercing our hearts so poignantly to-day in a few short months will have lost its sting.