ONCE more Jessie found herself alone in the little chamber where her gentle girlish life, had strengthened towards womanhood.

Many times had she visited this chamber since her marriage, going to it as to some pilgrim-shrine, but never with the feelings that now crowded upon her heart.

She had returned as a dove, to the ark from the wild waste of waters, wing-weary, faint, frightened--fluttering into this holy place, conscious of safety.

She was not to go out again.
Blessed thought! How it warmed the life-blood in her heart, and sent the currents in more genial streams through every vein.
But alas! memory could not die.

Lethe was only a fable of the olden times.