solitary hermit. So she would believe you were dead."

"And did that belief appear to cause her any regret?" asked William, who
had been listening with an earnest expression to Florence's words.

"Yes, indeed," returned she; "the pretty, gentle girl has a strong
regard for you, Willie. You must renew acquaintance when she and her
brother come to pay me their long-meditated visit."

"I don't know," said the young man, rather sadly.

"I believe you will be a second Hermit of the Cedars, or the Hemlocks,
or the Pines," said she, laughing; "for you are already half as
melancholy as your uncle, at times."

"Do you consider him so very gloomy, then?" asked Willie.

"He has the most mournful expression I ever saw," answered Florence;
"but he is an entertaining companion for all that. I always sit apart,
and listen in silence, when he relates some tale or adventure of his
extensive travels. He was with us yesterday evening, and I never saw him
so animated and lively before. Even Aunt Mary's pale, grief-worn
countenance assumed a cheerful expression while listening to his
sprightly, intelligent conversation."

"Did you not know the cause of his unusual exhilaration?" inquired
William.

"No," said Florence, looking innocently in the face of the questioner.

"Edgar is at home."

"Why did he not inform us of his nephew's return?" asked Florence,
growing suddenly very pale, and finding it convenient to lean against a
pillar near by.

"Perhaps he did not think the intelligence would interest your family,"
returned Willie; "he is very modest in his confidences."

The seminary bell now commenced to ring, and the youth hastened away
with a pleasant good-morning.

Florence stood there a long time, behind the thickly-interwoven
woodbines and honeysuckles, supporting herself against the marble
column, forgetful of all save the blissful thought that the man she
loved was once more near her. He was, indeed, nearer than she supposed,
for there came a light footstep on the vine-shrouded terrace, and she
felt an arm stealing softly around her, while a voice, whose briefest
tone she could never mistake, whispered in her ear:

"Again we have met, and O, Florence! say, in mercy say, it shall be to
part no more!"

There is nothing so natural, to a woman that loves, as the presence of
the beloved object; and Florence turned toward Edgar with no amazement
or surprise; but love unspeakable lighted her features as she placed her
han