Under this title appeared in the columns of the True Flag, one of Fanny's most effective sketches. Thus ran the tale:—

"'Good-bye, dearest mother,' said Emma, as she pressed her lips to her forehead. 'Let me bring your foot-stool and your spectacles before I go. We shall have a lovely drive, and I'll not stay after nightfall.'

"As she listened to the sound of the retreating wheels, Mrs. Leland said to herself, 'I'm selfish to be unwilling to part with Emma, but she is so good and so beautiful. Her presence is like a ray of sunshine; my room seems so dark and cheerless when she leaves me; and yet it will not be long that I can watch over her; and when these dim eyes are closing, it will be a comfort to know that she has a protector and a husband.'

"Mrs. Leland was a widow—that name always suggestive of desolation, want and sorrow. Her husband, however, had left herself and Emma enough to keep them from suffering, and the latter had made her musical talents available in driving poverty from the door.

"About a year before the date of my story, Emma had met with Lionel. Of prepossessing exterior and polished manners, the young merchant had made himself a welcome guest at the quiet fireside of the widow. Thoughtful and attentive to Mrs. Leland, he had already yielded her the devotion of a son. She was alone most of the day, but when Emma returned to her at night, with her tasks completed, and they were seated around their little table, and Emma herself prepared the nice cup of tea that was to refresh her invalid mother, and evening came, and with it Lionel, with his bright, handsome face, and winning smile and soft low tones; how quickly the hours fled away! And now she was soon to be his bride. Their cottage home in the outskirts of the city was already chosen, and thither they had gone to make arrangements for their removal. And who so happy as the lovers, that long, bright, summer afternoon? The little cottage rooms were carefully inspected; the pretty rosebush was trained anew over the low door-way, and the gardener had especial orders to take care of the nice flowerbeds and gravel walks. Amid the last sweet carol of the birds, when the flowers, heavy with the falling dew, were drowsily nodding their heads, and the first bright star of evening was timidly stealing forth; in the dim, fragrant twilight, again and again they exchanged new vows of love.

"When Emma remembered the dull and cheerless past, life seemed now to her a fairy dream; she trembled to be so happy. Then a dark shadow would pass before her eyes, and she would say, shudderingly, 'What if a change should come!' but she looked in Lionel's face, and remembered it no more.

"Home was gained at last, Lionel assisted his fair companion to alight; she sprang gaily up the steps, and was turning to wave her hand to him as he left, when she saw a man step up to him, lay his hand familiarly on his shoulder, and, taking the reins in his own hands, drive off. Supposing him to be some friend, or business acquaintance, she thought no more of it, and passed into the house.

"'It is needless to ask you if you have enjoyed your ride, my daughter,' said Mrs. Leland, looking with a mother's admiration at the bright flush on her cheek, and her sparkling eye.

"'Oh! it was so delightful, mother, at the cottage; and we shall be so happy there,' said the fair girl, as she laid aside her pretty hat and shook from their confinement her long, bright tresses. Then, seating herself at the window, she commenced embroidering a part of her wedding dress.

"Soon after, a stranger called to see Mrs. Leland on business; and Emma withdrew to their little bed-room. She was sitting there, busy with her work; a song, sweet as a bird's carol trembled on her lips, when Mrs. Leland returned.

"'Emma!'

"She turned her head to see her mother's face overspread with the pallor of death. Springing to her side, she said, 'Mother! dear mother! who has dared? what has troubled you? who is this stranger?'

"Her mother pointed to the wedding dress, saying, (as if every word rent her heart-strings,)

"'Emma, you'll never need that! Lionel is arrested for forgery.'

"''Tis false!' Emma would have said, but the words died on her lips, and she fell heavily to the floor.

"One fainting fit succeeded another through that long, dreary night, till life seemed almost suspended. Morning came, and woke the sufferer to consciousness. Passing her hand slowly across her forehead, as if still bewildered, and unable to realize the dreadful change that had passed over her, she said,

"'Mother, I must go to Lionel!'

"'No, no,' said Mrs. Leland, ''tis no place for you, Emma.'

"Covering her face, as if to shut out some dreadful vision, she said, 'I care not where I find him, mother! I must go or die. Would you kill your child?'

"The succeeding day found her at the prison door. As the key grated in the lock for her admittance, she shuddered and hung back; but it was only for an instant. Nerving herself, as by a strong effort, she advanced and threw herself, fainting, upon Lionel's breast. As the jailer came towards her, Lionel started to his feet, and with a fierce gesture, motioned him off. Pressing his lips to her cold forehead, he said to himself, 'If she would but pass away thus!' But death comes not at the bidding of the wretched, and there she lay, that young, fair thing, with her beautiful head bowed with grief and shame; still loving, still trusting, through dishonor and pain, with the strong, deep love of a woman's heart. Even the stern jailer, though inured to scenes of human suffering, brushed away the tears with his rough hand from his furrowed cheeks, and said, 'God be merciful.'

"Few words were spoken by either, and the allotted hour passed by. One long embrace—and the wretched man was again alone in his cell, with an accusing conscience; the darker, the gloomier for the angel-light that was withdrawn.

"And Emma! She was borne back again to the arms that had pillowed her infancy, and laid her head upon her mother's breast like a tired child. The agony of that hour had done the work of years. The rose had faded from the cheek, the eyes were dim and lustreless. She only said, 'I'm weary.'

"And so weeks passed by. Nothing interested her, nothing seemed to rouse her from her apathy. At length news reached them of Lionel's escape! The change in Emma was instantaneous. Her manner became excited, nervous and hurried; she passed about the house arranging everything to the best advantage, as if expecting some friend or guest.

"One stormy night they sat at their little table, each busy with their own sad memories. The wind wailed dismally, and the beating rain had driven every living thing to seek a shelter. Mrs. Leland spoke of the fury of the storm, and Emma glanced toward the window. A dark face was prest close against it! Those eyes! (she passed her hand across her own, as if to clear her vision,) those eyes were Lionel's! Tottering as if bent by age, she staggered towards the door, and in a moment they were in each other's arms. What a night of fear, and horror, and joy was that! for he must away before the day should dawn.

"'Then you go not alone,' said Emma; 'if you have sinned you have also suffered.'

"'Yes, and it's but right he should,' said a rough voice, as the door was rudely burst, and a stout man advanced to make him prisoner.

"Lionel had prepared himself for this. A flash! a report! the lovers lay side by side. They were both prisoners, but Death was the jailer!"