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"I want you to do something for my sake." "Heaven," repeats he, with a sigh. "I have forgotten to think of heaven." Only a little withered bunch of heather, tied by a blade of grass! Nothing more!.

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There was once a man who loved his wife dearly. After they had been married for a time they had a little boy. Some time after that the woman grew sick and did not get well. She was sick for a long time. The young man loved his wife so much that he did not wish to take a second woman. The woman grew worse and worse. Doctoring did not seem to do her any good. At last she died. Getting back to the Grosvenor, he runs lightly up the stairs to the sitting-room, and, opening the door very gently,—bent in a boyish fashion on giving her a "rise,"—enters softly, and looks around for his darling. Geoffrey utters an exclamation, and Mona, after one swift comprehensive glance at the rifled cupboard, bursts into tears. The bitter disappointment is more than she can bear. "Oh, poor Nicholas!" says Mona sadly, "and poor little Doatie!".