Young was the bridegroom, and beautiful the bride, and never did blessing hallow love more entire and more devoted; and yet it was a melancholy ceremonial. The cold light of the moon touched every face with unnatural paleness; and the silence was unbroken and portentously profound. No bells, musical in their gladness, swelled upon the hushed air—no kindly gratulations came cheerful from joyful lips; and when Evelyn took Francesca's hand in his—now his own—his bride before the face of Heaven—he started at the marble coldness of the touch. Surely the shadow of eternity and the chill of the surrounding graves were upon her at that moment! She roused herself to say a few words of affectionate farewell to Lucy. "The dream of my whole life," whispered she, "is now fulfilled. In poverty, in exile, in death, I am his for ever."
Lucy embraced her in silence, and her husband's voice faltered, as he bade God bless them.
The youthful couple were left alone in the churchyard. "I have one last and dearest parting to make," said Francesca, and she knelt down beside the lowly grave of Guido.
"Weep not, dearest, for the dead," murmured Evelyn, in the low and gentle tones of love. "He was very dear; but the circle of a deeper affec-
