it is because I am an old maid, and am full of notions, that I cannot imagine how a woman can love a man who has been divorced from his wife.  I, who have never loved as the novelists say, have the most exalted ideas of marriage.  It is in Scripture, the type of Christ’s love to the church.  Life is so full of cares; there is something holy in the thought of one heart being privileged to rest its burden on another.  But how can that man be loved who has put away his wife from him, because he is tired of her? for this is the meaning of the usual excuses—­incompatibility of temper, and the like.  Yet Ellen did love him, with a love passing description; she forgot his faults and her own position; she loved as I would never again wish to see a friend of mine love any creature of the earth.

“Time passed, and Ellen was despised.  Mr. Lee left abruptly for Europe, and I heard that this poor young woman was about to become a mother.  I knew she was alone in the world, and I knew my duty too.  I went to her, and I thank Him who inclined me to seek this wandering lamb of his fold, and to be (it may be) the means of leading her back to His loving care and protection.  I often saw her during the last few weeks of her life, and she was usually alone; Aunt Lucy, her mother’s servant, and her own nurse when an infant, being the only other occupant of her small cottage.

“Speaking of her, brings back, vividly as if it happened yesterday, the scene with which her young life closed.  Lucy sent for me, as I had charged her, but the messenger delayed, and in consequence, Ellen had been some hours sick when I arrived.  Oh! how lovely her face appears to my memory, as I recall her.  She was in no pain at the moment I entered; her head was supported by pillows, and her brown hair fell over them and over her neck.  Her eyes were bright as an angel’s, her cheeks flushed to a crimson color, and her white, beautiful hand grasped a cane which Dr. Lawton had just placed there, hoping to relieve some of her symptoms by bleeding.  Lucy stood by, full of anxiety and affection, for this faithful servant loved her as she loved her own life.  My heart reproached me for my unintentional neglect, but I was in a moment by her side, supporting her head upon my breast.

“It is like a dream, that long night of agony.  The patience of Ellen, the kindness of her physician, and the devotion of her old nurse—­I thought that only a wife could have endured as she did.

“Before this, Ellen had told me her wishes as regards her child, persuaded that, if it should live, she should not survive its birth to take care of it.  She entreated me to befriend it in the helpless time of infancy, and then to appeal to its father in its behalf.  I promised her to do so, always chiding her for not hoping and trusting.  ‘Ellen,’ I would say, ’life is a blessing as long as God gives it, and it is our duty to consider it so.’

“’Yes, Miss Janet, but if God give me a better life, shall I not esteem it a greater blessing?  I have not deserved shame and reproach, and I cannot live under it.  Right glad and happy am I, that a few sods of earth will soon cover all.’