forebodings of the future. Let
me enjoy the sunshine while it lasts. What shall I say to my
father?--what will he say to me when he learns who was the companion of
my lonely mountain stroll, and the rider at my bridle-rein during all
the long, dangerous descent? I fear he will be angry and hurry me away
immediately; and yet, with his discrimination, I think he must discern
the vast superiority of Edgar Lindenwood to that low-bred, mean-souled
Malcome.

"But it is time this record should end, for twilight approaches, and the
shadows of the great mountains darken over the valley."

She closed her journal just as Ellen Williams, returned from her
excursion, burst into the room. She flung her arms around Florence, and
covered her with frantic kisses.

"O, I am so glad to have you safely back!" she exclaimed; "I feared I
should never behold you again. How did you live through a night like
last on that dreadful mountain-top?"

"We had a comfortable shelter," said Florence, returning her friend's
warm embraces.

"Did you wish you were down here in the valley, when the awful storm
overtook you?"

"No, indeed," answered Florence; "my courage rose above all
difficulties. O, Ellen! you know not what you lost, when, chilled by the
blasts that swept Mount Franklin, you grew discouraged and turned back."

"So Ned tells me," said Ellen; "but I saw sublimity enough from Mount
Willard to fill my little soul with rapture, though I had no
artist-companion at my side to point out the grandest views to my
untaught vision."

Here she fixed an arch glance on Florence, who blushed slightly as she
said:

"I do not understand your quizzical looks."

"Probably not," returned Ellen, in a pleasant, bantering tone; "and if I
should tell you Mr. Lindenwood, the young artist of whom I spoke to you
at Niagara, had made his appearance in these regions, no doubt you would
express appropriate surprise at the information. However, your father
has been impressed with his appearance, and sought an introduction. I
saw them in the parlor but a moment since, engaged in conversation."

"Is it possible?" said Florence, her eyes lighting with pleasure.

"Why, very possible," returned Ellen, "and they seemed mutually pleased
with each other. Come, let us make ready and go down. I promised Ned to
return in five minutes."

The young ladies descended to the parlor, where Florence beheld her
father standing before a table, with Edgar at his side, exami