grave? Must I see you resolve to die with her, rather than live with me?"

Here Mary paused: but Lewellyn's heart being too full to allow him to answer her, she soon continued thus:

"Dear Mary!" said your parents to me in their last moments, "should our deluded son be still living, and ever return to his native town, tell him" "Tell him what?" cried Lewellyn, seeing that Mary hesitated.

"Tell him, it was our wish, that he should forget the worthless girl who has forsaken him, (remember, Lewellyn, it was they who called her such names, and not I,) and make you his wife. It is not pretty to praise one's self, I know, Lewellyn," continued Mary, blushing, "but I may repeat what they said, surely.”

"And what did they say?" asked Lewellyn.

"Why, they said I was a very good girl;

and they were sure I should make you happy!"

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"Happy-make me happy!" cried Lewellyn mournfully; "but you are a good girl-a very good girl, Mary!" he added, putting his arm round her waist, and pressing her to him as he spoke.

This circumstance, trivial as it was, invigorated the hopes of Mary, and gave her courage to proceed. "Now hear my resolution, Lewellyn:-From my childhood to the present hour, I have lived but for you and your dear unfortunate parents; to them and you-my health, my time, and my strength have been cheerfully devoted; but grief has now nearly exhausted me, and I feel that my power of exertion is nearly over; for I see, that-though I have loved you through all your sickness and your sorrow, and love you as fondly now as if you were still in the pride and bloom of health and youth-I see, wretch that

I am! that it is with difficulty you speak kindly to me; and that I am so odious to you at times, that'

"Odious!-you odious to me!" exclaimed Lewellyn, starting up with unusual animation; you-Mary! my friend! my nurse! my preserver! my all! now." Here he burst into a violent fit of tears, the first which he had shed since he had heard how Fanny died; and Mary, leaning her head on his shoulder, joined her tears to his. "You, odious to me! you!" he continued, "whom I have loved from my childhood; you! who were all my poor parents' comfort; you! who performed towards them all the duties of a child; while I, wretch that I was! forsook them in their old age. O, Mary! whatever. be my faults, accuse me not of the wickedness of hating you."

"Then promise me not to give way to this deadly sorrow, Lewellyn."

"I will promise you any thing," cried Lewellyn tenderly.

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For, mark my words, Lewellyn-I will not live to witness your death-I am ill-I am very ill; and unless assured that you will consent to live, I will take no food, no remedies, but give myself up to the languor which is consuming me."

Mary!-dearest Mary!" cried Lewellyn, catching her fondly to his bosom,

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you shall live for my sake, as I will live for yours! We will either live or die together; and from this moment I will shake off this unworthy sorrow."

He said no more: for Mary, more unable to bear joy than sorrow, fainted in his arms, and for some time the terrified Lewellyn feared that she was gone for ever; but she revived at last, and in a few weeks, to the satisfaction of the whole town, to whom Mary was an object both of affection and respect, the lovers were united at

the parish church. Not long after, a gentleman, to whom their story was known, put them in possession of a small but comfortable farm on his estate, and Mary shines as much as a wife and mother, as she had before done as a relation and friend.

Nor is happiness bestowed on unthankful hearts.-When Lewellyn returns, after his day's employment, to the comforts of his home, Mary seats herself by his side; and, blest in each other's affection, they ask themselves if it can be true, that they were ever unhappy?

But the sound of the drum and fife always fades the colour of Mary's cheek; and whenever a recruiting party passes her gate, Mary hastens into a back room till it is past, and Lewellyn runs to the extremity of his fields to avoid it; while Mary, shutting the door after her with vio