“Oh, yes.”

“The highest life, then, toward which we can aspire, is angelic life.  Their life is a life of goodness, bodying itself in wisdom.”

“How far below angelic life is the natural life that we are leading here!” said Mrs. Markland.

“And therefore is it that a new life is prescribed,—­a life that begins in learning heavenly truths first, as mere external formulas of religion.  These are to be elevated into knowledge, intelligence, and afterward wisdom.  And it is because we are so unwilling to lead this heavenly life that our way in the world is often made rough and thorny, and our sky dark with cloud and tempest.”

Mr. Willet now interrupted the conversation by a remark that turned the thoughts of all from a subject which he felt to be too grave for the occasion, and soon succeeded in restoring a brighter hue to the mind of Mrs. Markland.  Soon after, the visitors returned home, all parties feeling happier for the new acquaintance which had been formed, and holding in their hearts a cheerful promise of many pleasant interchanges of thought and feeling.

Many things said by Mr. Willet, and by his mother and sisters, made a strong impression on the mind of Mrs. Markland and her daughter.  They perceived some things in a new and clearer light that had been to them vailed in obscurity before.

“Flora is a lovely girl,” said Fanny, “and so wise beyond her years.  Many times I found myself looking into her face and wondering not to see the matron there.  We are fortunate in such neighbours.”

“Very fortunate, I think,” replied her mother.  “I regard them as having minds of a superior order.”

“Flora is certainly a superior girl.  And she seems to me as good as she is wise.  Her thought appears ever lifting itself upward, and there is a world of new ideas in her mind.  I never heard any one talk just as she does.”

“What struck me in every member of the family,” said Mrs. Markland, “was a profound religious trust; a full confidence in that Infinite Wisdom which cannot err, nor be unkind.  Ah! my daughter, to possess that were worth more than all this world can offer.”

A servant who had been despatched for letters, brought, late in the day, one for Mrs. Markland from her husband, and one for Fanny from Mr. Lyon.  This was the first communication the latter had sent to Fanny direct by post.  The maiden turned pale as she received the letter, and saw, by the superscription, from whom it came.  Almost crushing it in her hand, she hurried away, and when alone, broke the seal, and with unsteady hands unfolded it, yet scarcely daring to let her eyes rest upon the first words:—­

“MY EVER DEAR FANNY.”—­[How her heart leaped as she read these words!]—­“I write to you direct by post, for there remains no longer any reason why our correspondence should be a concealed one.  I have also written to your father, and shall await his response with the deepest anxiety.  Let his decision in the matter be what it may, I shall forever bear your image in my heart as a most sacred possession.  Will you not write immediately?  Conceal nothing of the effect produced on your father’s mind.  Send your letter as addressed before, and it will be forwarded to my hands.  May heaven bless you, dear Fanny!  In haste, suspense, and deep anxiety.  LEE LYON.”