Oh, love! how strong is thy faith!  How confiding thy trust.  The world in vain frowns upon the object of thy devotion.  Calumny may blacken, and circumstances condemn, but thou, in thy blind simplicity, still clingest, through storm and shine, to the imaginary perfections of thy idol.

To believe in the innocence of Anthony Hurdlestone was to hope against hope; yet Juliet firmly, confidingly, and religiously believed him guiltless.  Oh, who might not envy her this love and faith!

The robin red-breast from his fading bower of hawthorns warbled in the early dawn of the cold, bright, autumnal day.  The first rays of the sun gilded the gay changing leaves of the vine that clustered about the windows with hues of the richest dye, and the large bunches of grapes peeping from among the leaves looked more temptingly ripe, bathed in dew and brightened in the morning beam.  A slight rap at her chamber door dispelled Juliet’s slumbers, and Ruth Candler entered the room.

“Is anything wrong, Ruth?”

“My mistress is awake, and wishes to see you, Miss,” said Ruth, bursting into tears.  “It’s the last morn.  I’m thinking, that she’ll ever see on earth.  She’s in no pain, she says, but she is so pale, and her eyes do not look like the eyes of the living.  Alas! alas! what shall we do when she is gone?  The dear sweet young creter!”

Ruth wept aloud with her face to the wall while Juliet hurried on her clothes, and, with a full heart, followed the old woman to the chamber of the invalid.

She found Clary sitting up in the bed, supported by pillows.  Cold as it was, the casement was open to admit the full beams of the rising sun, and the arms of the dying girl were extended towards it, and her countenance lighted up with an expression of angelic beauty and intense admiration.  Her brother was seated upon the bed, his face concealed in the pillow, while ever and anon a deep sob burst from his full laboring heart.

He had watched there through the long night—­had watched and prayed while the dear one slept her last sleep on earth; and he knew that the young spirit had only roused itself to look once more upon the lovely creation of God before it plumed its bright wing for its final flight.

“Sun, beautiful sun!  I shall see thee no more,” said the child.  “Thou glorious emblem of the power and love of God.  But I go to him who is the Sun of the spirit-world, the life and light of the soul.  There is joy in my heart—­deep joy—­joy which no mortal tongue can express, for the happiness I feel is not of the world.  The fresh breezes of morning fan my brow; to-morrow they will sigh over my grave.  The earth returns to the earth, the spirit to the God who gave it.  Weep not for me, dear brother.  For this hour I was born.  For this hour I came into the world, and you should rejoice and be exceedingly glad that I have so soon obtained my passport to the skies.”

“Ah, my sister, what will life be to me, when you are gone?  You are the last kindred tie that binds me to earth.”