es, which are anachronisms, has perverted his taste. Here is the
Emile worthy of my Emilia," he would say, much to the daughter's
annoyance.

But when Edwards came the hours were golden. Hanging his wolf-skin cap
behind the door, and shaking back his long locks as he took his seat,
he would entrance father and daughter alike with his talk of adventure.
From the time of his first visit new life came to the heart of Emilia;
and Mr. Lindsley, whose every whim the trapper humored, was as much
fascinated as his daughter. But now commenced a fierce battle in the
heart of Emilia. Edwards loved her. By all the speech that his eyes
were capable of, he told her so. And by all the beating of her own
heart she knew that she loved the brown-faced, long-haired trapper in
return. But what about the fair-eyed student, who for very love and
disappointment had gone to the arctic seas? He was not at hand to plead
his cause, and for this very reason her conscience pleaded it for him.
When her soul had fed on the words of the trapper as upon manna in the
wilderness, she took up the old photograph and the eyes reproached her.
She shed bitter tears of penitence upon it for her disloyalty to the
storm-tossed sailor, but rejoiced again when she saw the tall figure of
the trapper coming down the trail. A desolate and lonely heart can not
live forever on the memory of a dead love. And have ye not read what
David did when he was an hungered? Do not, therefore, reproach a
starving soul for partaking of this feast in the desert.

And so Emilia tried to believe that Brown was long since dead--poor
fellow! She shed tears over an imaginary grave in Labrador with a great
sense of comfort. She tried to think that he had long since married and
forgotten her, and she endeavored to nurse some feeble pangs of
jealousy toward an imaginary wife.

Now it was very improper, doubtless, in Brown to come to life just at
this moment. One lover too many is as destructive to the happiness of a
conscientious girl as one too few. If Emilia had been trained in
society, her joy at having two lovers would have had no alloy save her
grief that there were not four of them. But it was one of the
misfortunes of her solitary and peculiar education that she had
conscience and maidenly modesty. Wherefore it was a source of bitter
distress and embarrassment to her that, at the end of a long letter
from a neighbor who had taken a notion after years of silence to write
her all th