hought--my gratitude to them and the hope that I might one day repay
it. Oh, how kind they were! Everything to make the transit easy for Hal
was cared for, even to the beautiful blanket Mrs. Hanson gave him, which
was doubly precious since her grandmother span the wool and colored and
wove it with her own hands. It was a happy party which left Chicago on
that memorable morning, and our journey was delightful. Father was
waiting for us at the old home station, and instead of the old stage we
rode home in an easy carry-all behind our own horses. Mother and Clara
met us with outstretched hands, and the latter, as she stood in the
doorway, looked a perfect picture.

Hal was very tired, and for days after our return was threatened with a
relapse, which was averted only by the unvarying care and strength of
Louis. When this risk was over and he was fairly started on the road of
recovery, came the departure of our friend and his return to his
studies. Oh, how we dreaded it! Hal said afterward the thought of his
going sent a chill to his head. The evening before his departure we
walked over the hill through the pleasant path his mother and myself
always chose when we walked and talked together. I said:

"Go with us, Clara," as we sauntered along the yard path toward the
gate, but Louis looked at her and she turned gaily from us with the
words:

"I will look after the invalid."

It seemed to me I was made of stone that evening, and we walked long
before the silence was broken. At last Louis stopped, and taking both my
hands looked into my heart (it seemed so to me) and said:

"I leave to-morrow."

My eyes grew moist, but only a sigh escaped my lips. I did not even say
I was sorry.

Then we sat down on the mossy trunk of our favorite tree, and he said:

"Are you sorry, Emily? Will you miss me, and will you write to me, and
will your dark eyes read the words I send to you?"

Dumb, more dumb than before, I sighed and bowed my head, and again he
spoke, this time with that strange, terribly earnest look in his eyes I
had seen before.

"Oh, Emily! my dear Emily! I am only a boy in years, but I love you with
the strength of a man. I have saved the life of your brother because I
loved his sister; and," he added in a low tone, "I love him too, but not
as I do the dark eyes of his sister. Oh! Emily, do you love me? Can you
and will you love me, and me only?"

And he drew me to him almost fiercely, while I quivered in every ne