senger who brooks no delay-who never knocks or asks to be admitted-came. The "cold hand" was laid on the loving heart; the face grew paler, the lips whiter, the hands nerveless, the pulse beat slowly, - still more slowly; the damp of the grave stood on the brow; the failing eyes passed from face to face till they rested on Helen, when she whispered, "Remember." "Mother, I will," Helen replied, in a steady voice, drawing the two little ones to her side, where they stood weeping. A faint smile passed over the face. Again the eyes moved, till they rested on her husband's face, where they remained till death shut out all that was earthly. "Old things are passed away; all things are become new." The Church below lost a dear sister, the Church above has gained one angel more!

The silence of the last hours was now broken by the cries of the children, and the bitter moaning of the bereaved husband. Helen's mission had begun; her first duty was to soothe her father's bruised heart.

"We shall go to her, dear," she said. "Come, let us leave her with Jesus. We know how blest she is. We have earth about us still. Come, dear father, the children want you-mamma's children."

Mr. Aubrey gently took him, with all the children, from the room, Mrs. Aubrey remaining to give such help or orders as were required. Darkened windows, quiet footsteps, hushed voices, till the day came round when the remains of the dead wife, and mother, were to be carried to the cemetery, and laid in the house appointed for all living,-"Ashes to ashes; dust to dust,"-which dust

"Must slumber in the grave

Till the last trumpet's joyful sound;

Then burst the grave, with sweet surprise,
And in the Saviour's image rise."

CHAPTER III.

Family Consultations.

"THAT Our sons may be as plants grown up in their youth; that our daughters may be as corner-stones, polished after the similitude of a palace."

THE

HE family at Ashfields knew that some change was inevitable, though each shrank from speaking of it first. One afternoon, however, the subject was opened by Mrs. Broughton, who had been with her sister during the closing scene, and remained behind a few days, that she might be company, till the first grief was passed. This lady, who was always spoken of as Aunt Jane, was the right person to speak, being a woman of good practical common sense.

"John," said she, "I have had a letter this morning from Frederic. He wishes me to return home as soon as you can make your plans for the future. He does not wish to hurry me; but baby is far from well, and nurse is rather afraid of being left alone with him. What are you intending to do?"

Mr. Lancaster looked round on his boys and girls with a very sad heart: then said—

"They are very young, poor children, and Helen is quite worn out. Do you think we should have a sort of housekeeper that would relieve her of some of the care on her mind, and give her a little more freedom? I fear to ask the dear child if she feels herself capable of undertaking the housekeeping altogether."

“Well, John, I agree with you as to her being quite used up during the long time she has been nurse, and everything else, to you all; and I consider her to be the person who ought to be consulted first. We all know how bravely Helen has done. I cannot but say that I believe her quite competent to take entire superintendence of the house and everything in it. What do you suggest, Charlie? and what does Helen herself think of having a housekeeper?"

"I don't think we need one; and should not like it," said Charlie.

"Nor I, nor I," burst from each of the younger ones. "No," Helen said, "it would not be pleasant, papa, for either Mabel or myself. I think, auntie dear, that if papa can trust me, I can, I am sure I will try to keep everything as nearly as possible like it used to be, before mamma went away."

Then rising from her seat, she crossed to where her father sat, and kneeling at his side, she told him with tearful voice of the conversation she had had with her mother a few days before she died, and the promise she gave to look to them all, and never to leave them. "And I never will, father," she said, "so long as of you want me."

any

"My precious darling," he murmured, kissing her forehead.

Still speaking, she went on

"I gave a solemn promise to her that I would be a comfort to you, and a mother as well as a sister to my brothers and sisters. I should like to fulfil it to "Re

the letter, if I can. Her last word to me was member." I knew what she meant perfectly. By God's help I shall remember. Of course I can never be what my dearest mother was; but I am her daughter. I have

her bright example. And we have you, father dear, to help and guide the dear boys, as you would like to do under any circumstances. So if you will agree to our remaining just as we are, I think we shall all like it best."

Aunt Jane, who had sat with her handkerchief to her face as Helen spoke, now said, smiling through her tears, "Well done, brave little woman!"

Charlie stood at the back of his father's chair, one arm across his shoulder. Mabel went up to her aunt, who guessed by her face that she would never be brought to consent that a stranger should come to give orders there. Horace looked timidly on. Willie was absorbed in his lessons, and gave no heed to anything besidebeing too young to know or care very much of anything save to him the very serious one of not being "up" in his lessons. May sat playing with her pet kitten, taking no notice of anything else. So the idea of the housekeeper was dismissed. Helen was to be mistress and mamma too. Mr. Lancaster now said

"I am most thankful to have it so, children. I only fear for Helen; that too much will rest on her, and tax her strength beyond its limits."

"Oh, we will all help. We shall, of course, relieve dear Nelly by every means in our power," was the general resolve.

Baby May, who heard the word "help," chimed in"Me help, too; and Kitty help."

"So you shall, you small darling," Mabel laughed ; "so shall Kitty."

"Come here, Willie."

"Yes, papa."

"If Helen will be your mamma, as well as your sister, will you promise to be a good and dutiful boy; sparing her all the trouble you can in every way?"

"She will help me with my lessons, won't she, the same as now?"

"I dare say, if she can. But will you be a dutiful little boy to her ? "

"You mean, pa, that we are to do all the things she tells us, as we used to do to poor ma."

"Yes, Willie, I mean that."

"Oh, yes, papa, always: indeed I will. I will not trouble Nelly or you either, I am quite sure."

"I never trouble Nelly either, pa, nor Kitty trouble," chimed in May's pretty little voice.

"Then so let it be," said the grateful parent. "It is the very arrangement I wished, and like best. I suppose, Aunt Jane, if Helen should need advice or help she may depend on you: may she not?"

"Of course she may. I am truly glad you have come to so wise a decision. I am satisfied that my niece will be all she promised her sainted mother to be to each of you. But I must suggest one thing, that is-that you have a nice respectable elderly woman in the place of Ann, who is really too young for the situation now, and will not, perhaps, so readily fall into the new arrangements. In answer to an appealing look from Helen, she said"Of course you would be mistress, and give orders, keep the keys, pay bills, and all that sort of thing; but a good sensible woman under you will be a stay to the younger girl and a relief to you, because, you will not forget, here is papa to talk to, and Charlie as well. Mabel will like to be a good deal with you; then there are three more will want your supervision. Then, my dear, there is yourself to consider. If you are mistress, you must be ready to receive callers, and make papa's friends at home. Besides, you must keep up your accomplishments, your music and drawing must