e anybody a locket, never--not even Hiram Meeker. Faugh! It
sickened her to think of _him_ now, and in this connection. Only imagine
it! A lock of her hair. How ridiculous! No living being had a lock of
_her_ hair. She knew that well enough. Besides, this was so much
lighter--as light as hers was when she was a child. A sudden thought
struck her. Strange; how very, _very_ strange! Yet, it was true. Once in
her life she _had_ given a single curl! Was this it? Had she promised
anything with the curl? And was this young man he? Sarah's heart beat
tumultuously as she entered the house. She reflected on the words of the
stranger as he turned to leave her. Should she see him again? * * *

A message came from her father. He would bring a gentleman to dine with
him--that was all.

Who would it be? the one she had lately parted with? Not a doubt of it.
_That_ she felt instinctively.

On a certain occasion, as the reader may remember, Sarah had
imperceptibly prepared herself to receive Hiram Meeker. It was the first
time he took tea at the house. This day she did the very same thing to
receive somebody else. There is no use to deny it, for such is the fact.
Yet it was but a short week since she was the betrothed of Hiram, and
believed she loved him. That very morning they had separated forever!

It often happens that a young girl is deceived by or disappointed in her
admirer. They may prove to be incompatible, or, what is worse, he may
prove unworthy; and she discards him, but with reluctance, after a
struggle, leaving a pang in her heart, while she mourns over her lost
_love_--not lover. _Him_ she no longer regards with any feeling; but the
memory of the old attachment is dear to her, though it be sad, and time
is required before the heart will be attracted by new objects, or seek
to be engrossed by a fresh passion.

The bond between Hiram and Sarah was of no such nature. He exercised a
species of magnetism over her, in consequence of her lively and
sympathetic nature; but it was of a kind that, when broken, neither
pleasing nor mournful reminiscences remained--no recollection of past
joys, no thought of former happiness and bliss. The fountains of the
heart had not been reached, and when Hiram Meeker quitted her presence,
she was as though she had never known him.

Thus it was, when she received her father's message, her pulses thrilled
at the idea of meeting the one he was to bring with him.

Already she guessed who it