CHAPTER VI.
POOR, POOR NELLIE.
And now, in the closing chapter of this brief sketch of the Gilberts, I come to the saddest part--the fate of poor Nellie, the dearest playmate my childhood ever knew, she whom the lapse of years ripened into a graceful, beautiful girl, loved by everybody, even by Tom Jenkins, whose boyish affection had grown with his growth and strengthened with his strength.
And now Nellie was the affianced bride of William Raymond, who had replaced the little cornelian with the engagement ring.

At last the rumor reached Tom Jenkins, awaking him from the sweetest dream he had ever known.

He could not ask Nellie if it were true, so he came to me; and when I saw how he grew pale and trembled, I felt that Nellie was not altogether blameless.

But he breathed no word of censure against her; and when, a year or two afterward, I saw her given to William Raymond, I knew that the love of two hearts was hers; the one to cherish and watch over her, the other to love and worship, silently, secretly, as a miser worships his hidden treasure.
* * * * * The bridal was over.

The farewells were over, and Nellie had gone--gone from the home whose sunlight she had made, and which she had left forever.