held in reserve, intending to atone in the future for her seeming neglect of him then.
A poor widow, whose only daughter and only child had recently died, received her last share of attention, to whom it was a great consolation to be thought of at such a time, and Rosalind subjected herself to much inconvenience to gratify her.
The Saturday night before her bridal witnessed all her plans completed, and she seated herself by the side of Ernest, with an evident feeling of satisfaction which lent an additional charm to their last private social interview as lover and maiden. The excitement of the last few weeks had not worn off sufficiently to come to the sober second thought of their approaching marriage, which was not even alluded to. Ernest enjoyed her thoughtless girlishness of manner, which to a stranger contrasted strangely with the sedateness of the woman a moment's thoughtfulness was sufficient to transform her into. The next morning, at break of dawn, she was up and doing. An odd memento she had long since promised to her mother when laughingly reminded of her strong attachment to home, a picture, representing the bride's farewell, suddenly recurred to her memory, which she immediately secured from a mass of articles collected for Kate, and hastily adjusting it to a frame, hung it in her mother's room, where her eyes would be likely to fall upon it as soon as she awoke. The affectionate embrace of mother and daughter was very touching, but the anger of the bridegroom at this manifestation of feeling which he expected to monopolize was
