"The Lady Ursula was the daughter of an English nobleman, the proprietor of Grondale Abbey. She was betrothed, in early life, to a young man, an officer in the army. As she was an only daughter, and inherited from her mother a large fortune, her father disapproved of her choice, and wished her to ally herself with the heir of a noble family. He was rejoiced, therefore, when a war broke out, that obliged Col. Fowler to leave the country with his regiment, to join the army.

"The parting of the lovers was painful, but they parted, as the young do, full of hope, and agreed to keep up a very frequent correspondence.

"For a year, his letters cheered his faithful mistress; but then they ceased, and a report of his death in battle reached her. Her father then urged the other alliance. This the Lady Ursula steadily refused; and she was soon after relieved from all importunity, by the death of her father.

"She was an only daughter, but her father left several sons. His estate belonged to the eldest, by entail, and the younger brothers, having obtained large grants of land in this country, determined to emigrate to the new world.

"The Lady Ursula, disappointed of all her cherished hopes, after much reflection, decided to accompany them, and become an actual settler in the wilderness.

"She purchased a large farm on this beautiful part of the coast, and as she was much beloved by her dependents, she persuaded a large number to unite their fortunes with hers. She brought out twenty serving-men, and several young maidens, and created a little paradise around her. The garden was filled with every variety of fruit and flower then cultivated in England, and the strong fence around the whole was to protect her from the Indians.

"At the time the Lady Ursula came to this country, she very much resembled the beautiful portrait that has charmed you so much. It was painted after she parted from her lover, and was intended as a present for him, had she not soon after heard of his death."

"You have seen her, then, my dear father," said Edith. "You knew the beautiful original of that lovely portrait."

"I scarcely knew her," said Mr. Grafton. "Soon after I came to this country, I was riding, one day, near a part of her estate. The day was warm and sultry: under some large spreading oaks a cloth was laid for a repast. I stopped to refresh my horse, and soon after I saw the lady approach, drawn in a low carriage.

"She had brought her workmen their dinner, and after it was spread on the grass, she turned her beautiful eyes towards heaven, and asked a blessing. She then left her men to enjoy their food, and returned as she came, driving herself in a small poney chaise.

"Among the maidens who came over with her from England was one who had received a superior education, and was much in her lady's confidence. This young girl was often the companion of her lady's solitary walks about her estate. One evening they were walking, and the Lady Ursula was relating the circumstances of her early life, and said that till this time she had never parted with all hope; she had cherished unconsciously a feeling that her betrothed lover might have been a captive, and that he would at length return. The young girl said, 'Why do you despair now, my lady? that is a long lane that has no turning.' The lady smiled more cheerfully. 'My bird,' she said, 'you have given me a name for my estate. In memory of this conversation, it shall be called Long Lane;' and it has always retained that name.

"The dews were falling, and they returned to the house. Her men and maidens were soon assembled, and the Lady Ursula herself led the evening devotions. They were scarcely ended, when a loud knocking was heard at the gate. It could not be Indians! No; it was a packet from England; and, O joy unspeakable! there was a letter from her long-lost friend and lover. He had been taken prisoner when half dead on the field of battle, had been removed from one place of confinement to another, debarred the privilege of writing, and had heard nothing from her. But the war was ended, there had been an exchange of prisoners, and he hastened to England, trembling with undefined fears and joyful anticipations. He would embark immediately, and follow his mistress to the new world, where he hoped to receive the reward of all his constancy.

"The lady could not finish the letter: surprise, joy, ecstasy,—all were too much for her, and the Lady Ursula fainted. As soon as she recovered, all was bustle and excitement through the house. The lady could not sleep that night, and she began immediately to prepare for the arrival of her lover. He said he should embark in a few days; she might therefore expect him every hour.

"Every room in the house was ornamented with fresh flowers. A room was prepared for her beloved guest, filled with every luxury the house could furnish; and her own portrait was placed there.

"She was not selfish in her joy: she told her men to get in the harvest: for when he arrived, no work should be performed; there should be a jubilee. A fatted calf was selected, to be roasted whole: and every one of her large household was presented with a new suit of clothes. 'For this my friend,' she said, 'was lost, and is now found; was dead, and is alive again.'

"When all was ready, the Lady Ursula could not disguise her impatience. She wandered restlessly from place to place, her eye brilliant, and her cheek glowing. At every sound she started, trembled, and turned pale.

"Her men were at work in a distant field; and she determined again, as usual when they were far from home, to carry them their dinner. When she took her seat in the little carriage, she said, 'It is the last time, I hope, that I shall go alone.'

"The repast was spread, and they all stood around for the blessing from the lips of the lady. It was remarked by her men that she had never looked so beautiful: happiness beamed from her eyes, and her usually pale cheek was flushed with joy. She folded her hands, and her meek eyes were raised. At that moment, a savage yell was heard; an Indian sprung from the thicket. With one blow of his tomahawk the Lady Ursula was leveled to the ground, and, in less than a moment, her long, fair hair was hanging at his girdle. The Indian was followed by others; and all but one of her faithful servants shared the fate of their mistress."

Mr. Grafton paused; Edith's tears were falling fast. "What became of her lover?" she said, as soon as she could speak.

"He arrived a few days after, to behold the wreck of all his hopes, and returned again, heart-broken, to England."

"And the picture," said Edith; "why did he not claim it, and take it with him, to console him, as far as it could, for the loss of his beautiful bride?"

"As she had made no will," said Mr. Grafton, "all the Lady Ursula's estate belonged to her own family. The lady we have visited to-day is a daughter of her brother."

Edith continued silent, and heeded not that the shades of evening gathered around them. She was pondering the fate of the Lady Ursula. That one so young, so beautiful, so good, should lead a life of sorrow and disappointment, and meet with so sudden and dreadful a death, weighed on her spirits; for Edith had not yet solved the mystery of life.

The sun had long set, when they reached their own door. Dinah had prepared the evening meal, and the cheerful evening fire; and Edith smiled her thanks.

As she helped her young mistress to undress, she said, "How pale you are, and how tired! You need a sweet, refreshing sleep to rest you again."

When Edith laid her head on the pillow, she called her humble friend to her: "Ah, Dinah," she said, "I have heard a story that makes me think there is no happiness on this earth."

Dinah had heard the story of the Lady Ursula.

"Was it not too sad, that she should meet that dreadful fate just as her lover returned, and she was going to be so happy?"

Dinah thought it was very sad. "But the lady was pure and good: the words of prayer were on her lips, and she went straight to heaven without much pain. Had she married and gone to England, she might have become vain and worldly; she might have lost the heavenly purity of her character."

"Yes," said Edith; "and Col. Fowler, having lived so long in the army, might not have loved her as well as she thought he did. Ah, who could live without love?"

Dinah thought many could and did. "Women depended too much," she said, "on their affections for happiness. Strong and deep affections were almost always disappointed; and, if not, death must come and sever the dearest ties;" and she stooped down and kissed Edith's hand, which she held in hers.

Poor Dinah! she little knew how entirely her own heart was bound up in Edith.

"But what can we live for, if not for love?" said Edith.

"For many things," answered Dinah, in her simple and quiet manner; "to grow better ourselves, and to do good to others; to make sacrifices, and to love all good works."

"I should not wish to live, were I to lose my father, and you, and"—Edith paused, and closed her eyes.

Dinah drew the curtain, and bid her, softly, "good night."

Edith could not sleep. She was reflecting on the fate of the Lady Ursula. With Dinah's assistance, she had begun to solve the mysteries of Providence;[2]