say that it chilled and
crushed her is to say only the truth. When her mother had finished
her's, Agnes handed this letter to her with the quietly spoken remark:

"That severs George and me forever in this world, mother. With a keen
sword he has cut me off from him, like the gardener ruthlessly cuts
the vine from the oak."

As she spoke, Agnes drew from her bosom a gold locket, and, springing
it open, she gazed for a moment upon a handsome manly face which it
contained. That was George's likeness.

"Till eternity George, till eternity--"

She did not finish the sentence in words; but the fond, artless,
fervent kiss she imprinted upon the picture was such a one as is given
to the dead lips of one we love, and are about to part with forever.

She snapped the lid shut again, replaced the closed trinket in her
bosom, and said:

"Mother, all is over. I shall never open it again. But in case I die
before you, I wish you to have this buried with me."

Mrs. Arnold tried to rally Agnes about this, her first disappointment
of the heart, and had the satisfaction of presently seeing her quite
merry. Suddenly Agnes, as she glanced over the newspaper, exclaimed:

"Mother, what a dreadful thing that yellow fever is! Did you read
this? Whole families are being swept out of existence, and have no one
to help or nurse them. It's frightful, and yet we boast of our
Christianity. It's a sin and a shame!"

She continued to read the fearful despatches that had first attracted
her attention, while her mother remained silent.

"Mother," she resumed, when she had finished, "I am going down to
Shreveport."

"What do you mean, Agnes?" exclaimed Mrs. Arnold, glancing anxiously
at her daughter.

"I am going down to Shreveport, to help to nurse those poor perishing
people."

"Agnes!"

"Yes, dear mother. I believe it to be my duty to go and do what little
I can toward alleviating the distress of those stricken sufferers."

"Why, Agnes, dear, you would surely perish yourself."

"O no, mother, you forget how I waited on papa and you when you both
had the fever down in New Orleans."

This was true. Several years before, while the Arnolds had been making
a pleasure tour in the Southern States, they had been seized with the
disorder, and but for the unflagging, heroic devotion of Agnes, they
would most likely have perished.

"No, darling, I could never forget that were I to live a hundred
years. It is because I do remember the horr