The home was accordingly offered, and tearfully accepted.

“Jane,” said the sad hearted woman, “I cannot tell you how much I have suffered in the last twenty years.  How much from heart-sickening disappointments, and lacerated affections.  High hopes and brilliant expectations that made my weak brain giddy to think of, have all ended thus.  How weak and foolish—­how mad we were!  But my husband was not all to blame.  I was as insane in my views of life as he.  We lived only for ourselves—­thought and cared only for ourselves—­and here is the result.  How wisely and well did you choose, Jane.  Where my eye saw nothing to admire, yours more skilled, perceived the virgin ore of truth.  I was dazzled by show, while you looked below the surface, and saw true character, and its effect in action.  How signally has each of us been rewarded!” and the heart-stricken creature bowed her head and wept.

And now, kind reader, if there be one who has followed us thus far, are you disappointed in not meeting some startling denoument, or some effective point in this narrative.  I hope not.  Natural results have followed, in just order, the adoption of true and false principles of action—­and thus will they ever follow.  Learn, then, a lesson from the history of the two young men and the maidens of their choice.  Let every young man remember, that all permanent success in life depends upon the adoption of such principles of action as are founded in honesty and truth; and let every young woman take it to heart, that all her married life will be affected by the principles which her husband sets down as rules of action.  Let her give no consideration to his brilliant prospect, or his brilliant mind, if sound moral principles do not govern him.

“But what became of Charles Wilton and his wife?” I hear a bright-eyed maiden asking, as she turns half impatient from my homily.

Wilton has escaped justice thus far, and his wife, growing more and more cheerful every day, is still the inmate of Judge Gray’s family, and I trust will remain so until the end of her journeying here.  And what is more, she is learning the secret, that there is more happiness in caring for others, than in being all absorbed in selfish consideration.  Still, she is a sad wreck upon the stream of life—­a warning beacon for your eyes, young lady.

VISITING AS NEIGHBORS.

“I see that the house next door has been taken,” remarked Mr. Leland to his wife, as they sat alone one pleasant summer evening.

“Yes.  The family moved in to-day,” returned Mrs. Leland.

“Do you know their name?”

“It is Halloran.”

“Halloran, Halloran,” said Mr. Leland, musingly.  “I wonder if it’s the same family that lived in Parker Street.”

“Yes, the same; and I wish they had stayed there.”

“Their moving in next door need not trouble us, Jane.  They are not on our list of acquaintances.”