Let us pass by twelve months, and see how the law of kindness is working then.  Mrs. Parker is certainly happier, less troubled than she was two years ago; Edith is a better and more dutiful child, and the sisters are far more sociable with her than formerly.  The dove of peace has taken up its abode in the Parker family.  How is it in High Street?  Emilie and aunt Agnes are not there, but Miss Webster is still going on with her straw bonnet trade and her lodging letting, and she is really as good tempered as we can expect of a person whose temper has been bad so very long, and who has for so many years been accustomed to view her fellow creatures suspiciously and unkindly.

But Emilie is gone, and are you not curious to know where?  I will tell you; she is gone back to Germany—­she and her aunt Agnes are both gone to Frankfort to live.  The fact is, that Emilie is married.  She was engaged to a young Professor of languages, at the very time when the Christmas tree was raised last year in Mr. Parker’s drawing room.  He formed one of the party, indeed, and, but that I am such a very bad hand at describing love affairs, I might have mentioned it then; besides, this is not a love story exactly, though there is a great deal about love in it.

Lewes Franks had come over to England with letters of recommendation from one or two respectable English families at Frankfort, and was anxious to return with two or three English pupils, and commence a school in that town.  His name was well known to Mr. Parker, who gladly promised to consign his two sons, John and Fred to his care, but recommended young Franks to get married.  This Franks was not loth to do when he saw Emilie Schomberg, and after rather a short courtship, and quite a matter of fact one, they married and went over to Germany, accompanied by John, Fred, and Joe White.  Mr. Barton, after the sad accident in the plantation, had so little relish for school keeping, that he very gladly resigned his pupils to young Franks, who, if he had little experience in tuition, was admirably qualified to train the young by a natural gentleness and kindness of disposition, and sincere and stedfast christian principle.

Edith longed to accompany them, but that was not to be thought of, and so she consoled herself by writing long letters to Emilie, which contained plenty of L——­ news.  I will transcribe one for you.

The following was dated a few months after the departure of the party, not the first though, you may be sure.

  L——­, Dec, 18—­
  DEAREST EMILIE,

I am thinking so much of you to-night that I must write to tell you so.  I wish letters only cost one penny to Frankfort, and I would write to you every day.  I want so to know how you are spending your Christmas at Frankfort.  We shall have no Christmas tree this year.  We all agreed that it would be a melancholy attempt at mirth now you are gone, and dear Fred and John