One bright May morning, from the turrets of two London churches pealed
forth the sound of bells. Sadly discordant were they in tone, yet less
so, than the causes for which they were being tolled. One was solemnly
announcing the funeral of one, who had lived too long, or died too soon.
Its mournful monotone proclaimed, that a spirit had departed from this
world of woe, while the merry peals of the other betokened a ceremony of
a far different character: that in which two souls were being united--to
enjoy the supremest happiness upon earth.
It seemed a strange coincidence, that the very day chosen for my
marriage with Lenore should be the one appointed for the funeral of
Jessie H--. And yet such chanced to be the case.