vant, who handed me a package, enveloped in brown paper. I grasped it with a foreboding of evil; and, hastily untying the string that confined it, my despised algebra and slate fell to the floor. I looked at them in perfect dismay, and, picking up a little note that had escaped from the book, read, tremblingly, as follows:

"As Miss Clifton refused yesterday to pick up her book and slate from the floor, when directed, will she excuse her unworthy cousin performing the office for her, and subscribing himself E. RICHMOND."

A mist came before my eyes, and they instantly filled with tears; for the cause of Ernest's absence was now fully explained. I had displeased him, and failed to fulfil my contract, and he had doomed me to one of the severest disappointments I ever met with; and even to this late day I can scarcely refer to, or even think of that evening's unhappiness, without a pang.

CHAPTER XXIV.

"Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;

Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages."

SHAKSPEARE.

JUNE, with its beautiful skies, its budding roses, and soft breezes, sped gently away, and was succeeded by the scorching months of July and August. These two months were spent by us in the country. Our summer lodgings were enlivened by the presence of my father, mother, and little sister. I was quite happy during this season; and nothing was wanting to make our retreat a paradise, save the fastwaning health of dear Harry Glenmore. He grew still paler and thinner each day, and seemed to be slowly but surely fading away. I received several letters from Katie Merton during the summer, breathing the fondest friendship for me, and congratulating me upon my hopes of future happiness.

How eagerly did I open my letters from the east, and how hastily peer through the closely-written columns, for some intelligence of Roland or Mary! I never found even the names, however, and was often surprised at myself for the

eagerness with which I still dwelt upon the memory of Roland.

Towards the middle of September we returned to the city, and once more took up our residence in the large and fashionable hotel, near the Common.

I was quite glad at again beholding Ernest, and, for the first week or two, enjoyed his society very much. There was a newness, a sparkling, an originality, about Ernest, that never failed to please me. He could enchain, for hours, all hearts by his conversation. I was, therefore, even happy to see Ernest again; and he, on his part, seemed to have lost for a while, all his coldness, and never appeared half so affectionate before. That evening, as we walked together upon the Common, he said, with much feeling:

"How very happy am I, cousin Nellie, to have you again with me! How much I have suffered, these two long months, pent up in this close city, and without your dear face to cheer me, I cannot describe. I have visited this beautiful spot many, many times, and wandered up and down its walks, in utter loneliness of spirit. I have stood by the smooth surface of the little pond, and, gazing far down its depths, have half imagined I saw your own sweet face reflected in its sparkling waters; and then have started from my reveries as if awakened by the music of your dear voice. I shudder, Helen, when I think what sort of a life I should lead without you by my side; it would be lonely and dreary enough."

Poor Ernest! I glanced at him. He looked pale and sad. For the first time in my life, I seemed to appreciate his strong, deep affection for me; and I pitied him, and felt my

heart glow with gratitude towards him, for such unchanging

love.

The next morning, I coaxed Harry out with me for a walk. He complied; and we sauntered slowly up and down the paths of our favorite nook.

'How beautiful and fair are all things here!" said Harry. "Do you know, Helen, that I have fancied this sweet spot resembled heaven? These walks, so firm and smooth, are the paths of virtue, from which no deviations are passable; these trees, so green and overarching, and this water, so pure and lucid, remind me of the shady trees and cool rills of paradise, which we all picture so fondly to ourselves. Helen, I have a fancy that I should love to die, some pleasant evening, in this quiet spot, apart from the busy hum of the stirring city. I would repose my weary form under one of these lofty trees; I would fix my eyes upon yon glorious orb of day, as it gently declined in the brilliant west, and, with a calm stealing over the face of nature, would softly breathe my last. I wish I might be permitted to die thus."

"O, Harry!" said I, mournfully, "I hope you may yet recover. You must not talk of dying; we cannot spare you. I am lost without you, Harry, dear; I am so sinful, so prone to wander, when away from your side!

"The will of God is mine," he softly replied. "I am ready to live or die, just as it pleases him; it matters not to me. I am sorry to leave you, dear Nellie, and my other friends, who are all so kind towards me; but only a few years will pass, when I shall meet them in yonder heaven, I trust. With what happiness unspeakable shall I then greet them! How little and insignificant will our troubles here seem then,

in comparison with the joys and raptures of heaven! O, Helen, when I think of that happy time and place, I am lost in wonder and happiness, and almost long to burst my bonds and soar away!"

Harry's sublime words always sunk deep into my heart, and left a serious impression there. He was my spiritual guide and adviser. I always felt that it was good to be near him; and many a fine long walk did I enjoy with him, the remainder of this month, and many a beautiful sentiment, or holy admonition, did I then cherish and note down to remember him by. Dear Harry! That mouth, and those eyes, once so speaking, have been mouldering to clay for many long years; but thy beautiful spirit is with me still, admonishing me solemnly to eschew evil, and gently urging me to follow thy holy example.

September, with its refreshing breezes, soft skies, and purple sunsets, was gently fading into October. How vividly do I remember the bright glory of this golden month! It was the celebrated Indian summer of 18-, when nature seemed enveloped with a mellow hue, when the fields were yellow with an uncommonly fine harvest, and summer seemed lulling itself asleep in the arms of luxury.

One bright evening, when the sky had worn a rich dress of golden blue all day, when not a leaf was stirred by the breeze, and not a zephyr troubled the waters, Harry, who had been lying in a dreamy state for hours, suddenly revived. Helen," said he to me, as I sat holding his hand, "I feel much better, and have an instinctive longing, I know not why, to visit yon sweet spot with you this evening."