“God alone knows,” said Alice, forced into a consideration of her own sorrow, and resting against a lounge near which she had been standing.  She wept bitterly.  Walter did not attempt to restrain her, but stood as if contemplating a grief that he could not wish to control.  Alice again spoke, “It must come, dear Walter, first or last, and we may as well speak the farewell which must be spoken—­but I could endure my part, if I had the hope that you will be happy.  Will you promise me you will try to be?”

“No, Alice, I cannot promise you that; if happiness were in our own power, I would not be looking on you, whom I have loved all my life, for the last time.

“But I will hope,” he continued, “you may be fortunate enough to forget and be happy.”

“Children,” said Miss Janet—­for she had gently approached them—­“do you know when and where happiness is to be found?  When we have done all that God has given us to do here; and in the heaven, above those stars that are now looking down upon you.  Look upon Alice, Walter, with the hope of meeting again; and until then, let the remembrance of her beauty and her love be ever about you.  Let her hear of you as one who deserves the pure affection of her young and trusting heart.  You have lived as brother and sister; part as such, and may the blessing of God be upon both of you forever.”

Walter took Alice in his arms, and kissed her cheek; all sternness and pride had gone from his handsome face, but there was such a look of hopeless sorrow there, as we would not willingly behold on the countenance of one so young.

Cousin Janet led him away, and with words of solemn, deep affection, bade him farewell—­words that came again, for a time, unheeded and unwelcomed—­words that at the last brought hope and peace to a fainting heart.

Cousin Janet returned to Alice, whose face lay hidden within her hands:  “Alice, darling,” she said, “look up—­God is here; forget your own grief, and think of one who suffered, and who feels for all who, like Him, must bear the burden of mortality.  Think of your many blessings, and how grateful you should feel for them; think of your mother, who for years wept as you, I trust, may never weep; think of your kind uncle, who would die to save you an hour’s pain.  Trust the future, with all its fears, to God, and peace will come with the very effort to attain it.”

“Oh, Cousin Janet,” said Alice, “if Walter were not so lonely; he knows not where he is going, nor what he is going to do.”

“It is true,” said Cousin Janet, weeping too; “but we can hope, and trust, and pray.  And now, my love, let us join your mother in her room; it is a sad parting for her, too, for Walter is dear to us all.”

* * * * *

Reader! have so many years passed away, that thou hast forgotten the bitterness of thy first sorrow, or is it yet to come?  Thinkest thou there is a way of escape—­none, unless thou art young, and Death interpose, saving thee from all sadness, and writing on thy grave, “Do not weep for me, thou knowest not how much of sorrow this early tomb has saved me.”