ment of her affection, in the endeavour to make herself worthy of him, and in the mental strength acquired by the after-struggle with that very affection, when it seemed but as an unworthy weakness which needed to be subdued. His influence, and its consequences, had still been paramount—its good and its evil had formed her whole character.
A high and generous nature is always trustful. Francesca never for a moment feared Evelyn's constancy; that a knowledge of the deception practised would instantly bring him to her side, it never occurred to her to doubt; and in her full gratitude to fate, she relied upon their meeting again. She started—and the delicious reverie in which she had boon indulging was broken as she approached the grave of her brother. Another and a new-made one was beside it—there reposed the mortal remains of Francis Evelyn. Pale and faint, she took her usual seat on the sod which covered Guido's lowly pillow; but her eye and her thoughts fixed on its neighbour.
There is nothing more dreary than a new-made grave—so bare, so desolate, so comfortless, with the cold stones, and damp gravel scattered all carelessly round. After a little while the long grass and the sweet wild flowers sanctify the place—even as, in the human heart, gentle me-
