only have shut out these
images! If he could have erased the record so that Memory could not
read it! How eagerly would he have drunk of Lethe's waters, could he
have found the fabled stream!

More than all this. The rebuke of Miss Linmore almost maddened him.
In turning from Edith, he had let his heart go out towards the other
with a passionate devotion. Pride in her beauty and brilliant
accomplishments had filled his regard with a selfishness that could
ill bear the shock of a sudden repulse. Sleepless was the night that
followed; and when the morning, long looked for, broke at last, it
brought no light for his darkened spirit. Yet he had grown calmer,
and a gentle feeling pervaded his bosom. Thrown off by Miss Linmore,
his thoughts now turned by a natural impulse, as the needle, long
held by opposing attraction, turns to its polar point, again towards
Edith Walter. As he thought of her longer and longer, tenderer
emotions began to tremble in his heart. The beauty of her character
was again seen; and his better nature bowed before it once more in a
genuine worship.

"How have I been infatuated! What syren spell has been on me!" Such
were the words that fell from his lips, marking the change in his
feelings.

Days went by, and still the change went on, until the old affection
had come back; the old tender, true affection. But, he had turned
from its object--basely turned away. A more glaring light had
dazzled his eyes so that he could see, for a time, no beauty, no
attraction, in his first love. Could he turn to her again? Would she
receive him? Would she let him dip healing leaves in the waters he
had dashed with bitterness? His heart trembled as he asked these
questions, for there was no confident answer.

At last Edwin Florence resolved that he would see Edith once more,
and seek to repair the wrong done both to her and to himself. It was
three months after his rejection by Miss Linmore when he came to
this resolution. And then, some weeks elapsed before he could force
himself to act upon it. In all that time he had not met the young
girl, nor had he once heard of her. To the house of her aunt, where
she resided, Florence took his way one evening in early autumn, his
heart disturbed by many conflicting emotions. His love for Edith had
come back in full force; and his spirit was longing for the old
communion.

"Can I see Miss Walter!" he asked, on arriving at her place of
residence.

"Walk in," returned th