in the spring, at the white seminary on
the hill."

Thus speaking, the beautiful girl descended to the drawing-room. A tall,
elegantly-proportioned man, with a magnificent head of raven black hair,
which hung in one dense mass of luxuriant curls all round his broad,
marble-like brow, and quite over his manly shoulders, was leaning in a
careless, graceful attitude against a splendid mahogany-cased piano, that
stood in the centre of the apartment, and moving his white, taper fingers
over the pearl-tipped keys, waking now rich bursts of song, and, anon,
dwelling long on deep, solemn notes, that pierced the soul with
melancholy. He did not move when the door opened, and Edith crossed the
room and stood beside him ere he noticed her presence.

"Where is brother Rufus?" she asked, drawing on her tiny, lemon-colored
gloves.

The gentleman turned and gazed down upon the fair speaker. The clear
complexion and soft blue eyes of the daughter were exact counterparts of
the father's; so were the rich red lips and pearly teeth. Their only
point of difference was in the color of the hair. "What do you want of
Rufus?" asked he, in a tone almost stern, after he had gazed on her
several moments in silence. She turned her speaking eyes upon his face,
and answered, "Sylva said he would take me to church."

"To church!" said her father, now relaxing his features into a smile,
"what an odd fancy! And are you arrayed in this fine garb to attend
service in an old, dilapidated country church?"

"Do you think me very finely-dressed?" said Edith, archly, as she for a
moment surveyed herself in the large mirror which hung from ceiling to
floor between the eastern windows. She wore a crimson velvet dress and
mantle, a muff and tippet of white ermine, and a chapeau of light blue
satin, with a long, drooping white plume. Her hair was gathered into
luxuriant masses of curls each side of her sweet face, and confined by
sprays of pearls and turquoises.

Rufus now entered. He was very unlike his sister in personal appearance.
His hair was the color of his father's, but far less abundant, and
straight as an Indian's. Eyes and complexion were both dark, and his
countenance indicative of rather low intelligence, and weak intellectual
powers. The father looked on him as though he was not quite satisfied
with the son who was, probably, to perpetuate his name.

"Are you ready, Edith?" asked the youth.

"Yes," she returned. He approached to give her hi