happiness more keen, blissful, bright, than another, it is that in which the husband of her choice thanks her for his first born child. It was with heartfelt gratitude that Blanche whispered "I thank God, love, that he has not taken me from you," for she felt, as Arthur pressed her to his heart, as with tears he thanked her for being so patient, so good—as he blessed her, not so much that she was the mother of his child, as that she was still his own, his wife, his Blanche; yes, she felt that life was indeed to her most precious. "It would have been hard to die," she murmured, "I could not have left all these," and she kissed the hands of her aunt, her sister, and her friend; and quiet tears of gratitude fell as she listened to the short prayer of thanksgiving which Aileen read as she knelt at her sister's bedside.
But there the pathos of the scene ended, then the bustling Mrs. Smith assumed her rights. "Come, come, we must have no more of this reading and talking, and all this crying. Now, my Lord, if you'll just go
