anged."

The midnight stars were over all the heaven, O, wildly, wildly bright!
Orion, like a flaming monarch, led up "the host of palpitating stars" to
their proud zenith, while, far in the boreal regions, danced strange,
atmospheric lights, with flitting, fantastic motions and ever-changing
forms and colors. A young girl stood in the deep recess of a large
window, with the rich, blue-wrought damask curtains wrapped closely about
her slight, fragile form, gazing intently on the splendors of the
midnight heaven. Long she stood there, and no sound broke the stillness,
save now and then a half-audible sigh. At length she said, "I cannot
endure this solitude and the depression which is stealing over me. Would
that I had a mother to love and bless me! Father is often so strange and
silent, and Rufus cannot sympathize with my feelings. I must call Sylva
to bear me company, for one of my nervous attacks is upon me, and I
cannot sleep." Softly opening a side-door, she said, in a voice scarcely
above a whisper, "Sylva, are you awake?"

"Yes," was the answer; "what is your wish, Miss Edith?"

"That you would come and sit with me a while."

"What time is it!"

"I know not; but, by the stars, it should be little after midnight."

"Return to your room, and I will soon be there with a light," answered
the one called Sylva.

The young girl did as requested, and sank down in a large arm-chair which
nearly concealed her in its soft cushions. Presently the small side-door
opened, and Sylva entered, bearing an astral lamp and a few light pieces
of kindling wood.

"O, I don't mind a fire!" said Miss Edith.

"Well, I do," answered the woman; "you would catch your death, up here
half the night with no fire."

"'Tis a cold place we are come to, isn't it Sylva?" said the young lady,
springing from her chair and wrapping an elegant cashmere dressing-gown,
lined with azure satin, round her tall, delicate figure, and then again
sinking down among the soft velvet cushions of her spacious fauteuil.

"Yes, Miss Edith, it is, indeed," answered Sylva, as she lighted a bright
fire in the polished grate. "How your father expects to rear so fragile a
bud in this bleak region I do not know."

"I have never seen him in such spirits as since we came here," returned
Edith, toying with the silken tassels of her rich robe. "You know he was
always so silent and reserved in our former home, Sylva. But sometimes I
fancy there is something unnatur