in rapid succession. First died Yngve's mother, or, more correctly speaking, peacefully went to sleep a few days after her son's departure, thankful and rejoicing to be able to follow him. Very shortly the Chief Director had an attack of apoplexy, in consequence of the violent agitation of mind caused by the then position of the great lawsuit, in which he was compelled to pay down a large sum of money. He recovered, it is true, in some measure; but paralysed in the lower limbs, and after a severe struggle with death, because he would not die, but live, and continue as formerly alone to govern the pecuniary affairs of the family without taking counsel with any one.

He felt himself, so he declared, as strong and capable, as regarded his powers of mind, as he ever had. been, and he felt convinced that he should perfectly recover his health, and live many years. He took after his grandfather, he said, who had lived to be a hundred years of age. With this prospect before him he concentrated all his attention and all his care still more exclusively upon himself, seeming to consider his restoration to health as the only important thing in the world. Nevertheless he was not altogether regardless of the anxious charge which his daughters had in him, and he attached himself, especially to Hertha, with a kind of childish confidence; and she, from the hour, in which she saw in this despotic father, a weak, ailing child, felt once more that she could love him-could watch over him with love. She thanked God for this renewed sentiment of filial affection, and took little thought of all the weary watching and the wearing anxiety of mind which, together with her own heart's silent sorrow, more and more undermined her strength. And though her father occasionally acknowledged her devoted affection, and appeared contented if he only saw her in his room, still merely thought of her with regard to himself, and his selfishness seemed only to increase as his powers

he

decreased. One day, towards the close of summer, a wasp had flown into his chamber, and they sought to drive it out through the window.

"Let it be!" said he impatiently, "it won't sting me!" A few hours after he was dead.

Hertha's apprehensions as to the state of her father's affairs proved, on his death, only to be too well founded. The Chief Director died a ruined man. The maternal inheritance of his daughters, Aunt Nella's forty years' savings, and his own property, had all been swallowed up by the great lawsuit, which was still going on at his death, and which he probably still hoped in his last moments to win. During a slight delirium, which came on a few hours before his death, he talked incessantly of carrying his cause before the supreme court. And he did so-but before a much higher tribunal than he had thought of.

Poor little Aunt Nella did not long survive the death of her brother-in-law, and the result of the great lawsuit. During the last few days of her life she was incessantly searching among the papers of the large portfolio, and talking to herself about the mislaid documents and the lost lawsuit. And thus also her confused, but innocent, soul appeared before the Supreme tribunal, where she had no cause to dread a severe verdict. Anna, the faithful old servant of the family, soon followed her master.

Hertha, left alone in her home, with her sisters, was now possessed of nothing, excepting what she herself had acquired by her own labour, and the small sum of money which was left her by Yngve.

"We are now poor!" said she to her sisters, as she clasped them in her arms; "but we are able to work; we can earn our bread in the sweat of our brows and never complain, but on the contrary thank God. It will give us strength. Promise me, never to say a word in accusation of our father!"

Hertha wrote in her Diary at this time as follows:"Yngve is gone, and with him all joy on earth. Work remains. And now-to work! Work for daily bread, for the dear sisters' future, and for that calling which God has given me. I shall not lay down my pilgrim's staff so long as this hand is able to hold it. But-I feel it already tremble. God! be my stay and strengthen me, for the sake of my motherless ones!"

Without a complaint for that which was past, Hertha turned with earnest zeal to the object which would henceforward alone support her and her sisters, as well as render their future secure.

But during the efforts which this required, and in consequence of the consuming agony of mind through which she had passed, she soon became convinced, beyond a doubt, that she would not long be able to devote herself to her peculiar calling, and that her career would be cut short.

There is a malady which seizes upon women much more frequently than men, and especially on those who have been stricken by some sudden sorrow, or who have been, as it is said, worn out by a painfully laborious life. As an insidious parasite of the tropics seizes upon the glorious Ceiba-tree, fixes itself in its soft bark, and grows, serpent-like, twining itself round its stem and branches, sucking up its sap, until it lives upon a-corpse, such is this malady; it commonly first seizes upon those parts of the body which are most beautiful and tender; those out of which the fountains of life well forth, and thence extends its secret poison to the whole system.

The name of this malady is not mentioned without a shudder, because it is known to belong to the incurable; and that severe suffering accompanies it.

Hertha was aware of her condition; and knowing it to be her duty to live and to work for her sisters, and

for the great object of her life's endeavours, besides the natural horror which she had of the disease whose symptoms she believed she recognised in herself, she consulted Dr. Hedermann.

He called her malady a "heart-complaint," but warned her of its consequences, and prescribed what physicians always prescribe, in such cases, rest from fatiguing labour; as well as bathing and the water-cure. Hertha thanked him; besought him not to betray her confidence on this subject; and he left her without any idea that what he had prescribed for her, was precisely that which her necessities prevented her making use of. But she would not allow such a confession to pass her pale lips.

She told no one; she allowed no one have an idea of the truth as regarded herself. With a calm, steady glance she arose, and summoned all her powers to fulfil the duties of each passing day, and left the future in the hand of God, in whose fatherly guidance she had firm trust-to whose inspiration she incessantly listened. With ever watchful and warm kindness, and with eloquent lips, she stood among the young who gathered around her; she revived all who came to her for counsel or consolation with frankness and sympathy, and none had any idea of the Nidhögg which gnawed at the root of her tree of life. Sometimes a deep sigh would force itself from her breast, which many fancied when they heard it to be a sound of lamentation, but the sigh and the lamentation were so speedily repressed, as to be scarcely observable. She went out commonly for an hour each day, accompanied by one of her pupils, for the benefit of fresh air. Sometimes it happened, on these occasions, that she would suddenly pause, and stand for a moment perfectly silent. This was when she felt a faintness come on. Afterwards she would smile kindly and resume her walk and her conversation. Before long, however, the progress of the destroyer became evident to all in the

emaciated form, and she was no longer able to conceal from those who loved her, that the Angel of Death was at her heart.

ALL-HALLOWS'-REST

Is the term applied, in some of the Swedish provinces, to a season which occurs generally at the commencement of November, with All-Hallows' Eve. It may be, a few days, or perhaps a week at most, of perfectly, almost wonderfully calm weather, which succeeds the October storms. The lakes lie, like dark agate, at the feet of the mossy primeval mountains, reflecting them and the dark green forests, and every object, however minute on their shores, in their calm, mirrorlike surface, with the most perfect fidelity. Not a breath of air stirs; not a bird twitters; heaven is veiled, everything seems to rest and wait the whole of Nature expresses a grand resignation, as it prepares itself to meet its fate, to enter its winterly grave. Still ascends, fresh and soft, the fragrance of earth, from the forests and the leaf-clad primeval mountains; but yet a little time, and it reposes stiff and cold beneath the white, enveloping shroud. It knows it, and waits in-" the calm of All-hallows."

We may perceive something resembling this calm, during the latter periods of Hertha's history; yet, at the same time, something more. Man, the lord of nature, does not, like nature, yield to fate only in passive submission; he meets it, he bows himself before it, in the living consciousness of the purpose of his change, and even at the approach of winter, prepares himself for the life of the new spring. It is his glorious privilege.