“The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour
  To meditation due.”

Calmly she now weighed the conversation of the preceding night, and, engrossed in earnest thought, sat gazing out till the Orient shone resplendent, and an October sun poured his rays gloriously around her.  Then she knelt, and prayed as she had never done before.  She sought the “pure fountain of light,” and implored strength and guidance in her search after truth.  Rising, her glance fell on her sleeping cousin, and she was struck with the change which within the last month had taken place in her appearance.  Approaching the bed, she lifted the masses of chestnut hair that clung to the damp brow.  As she looked on the pure, pale face, there came a gush of tenderness into her soul, and bending, she imprinted a long, warm kiss.  Mary stirred, and opened her eyes.

“Ah, Florry, you are up earlier than usual.”  She closed them again, murmuring slowly, “I feel as though I had no strength remaining; I can scarcely lift my head.”

“Sleep, Mary, if you can.  I will shut out the light, and call you again after a while.”

“No, Florry, I must not give way to such feelings; indeed they are getting quite too common of late; I can’t think what makes me so weak and feverish.”

An hour later, as they stood together at the door of their little dining-room, a body of Mexican cavalry dashed furiously past their gate.  The cousins looked full at each other.  Then Florence said in a low, calm tone:  “You are right, Mary; we will go from this place; I feel now that it is for the best.”  She averted her face; but Mary saw an expression of keen agony resting there.  “Florry, let us consult Mrs. Carlton.  She will advise us what would be best to do in this emergency.”

“Go and see her yourself; I cannot.  Whatever you decide upon I will agree to.  Oh!  Mary, how desolate and unprotected we are.”

“No, not while there is an Almighty One to watch over us.  But, Florry, I am much troubled about Aunt Lizzy.  I mentioned our wish to leave here, and she opposed it strenuously, on the grounds that the Padre had promised his protection.  Now what are we to do?”

“Go to Mrs. Carlton’s, Mary, and I will convince aunt that it is best we should remove from here immediately.  You need apprehend no difficulty on her part.  As you return from Mrs. Carlton’s, meet me in the churchyard.”

“Florry, do not go till I come home; or, if you prefer it, let us go there at once.”

“No, Mary, I wish to be there alone.”

“But I am afraid it is not quite safe for you to venture out so far from home.”

“I fear nothing:  who would harm a daughter beside her father’s grave?”

Mary sighed heavily, but offered no further opposition.  Her walk to Mrs. Carlton’s was a sad one, for her heart clung to the scenes she had learned to love so well, and the prospect of departure, and the uncertainty of the future, weighed heavily on her heart, and made her step unwontedly slow.  She found her friend alone, and much depressed.  Mrs. Carlton clasped her tenderly in her arms, while the tears rolled silently down her cheeks.