Through suffering and sorrow thou hast past,
To show us what a woman true may be;
They have not taken sympathy from thee,
Nor made thee any other than thou wast;
Save as some tree, which, in a sudden blast,
Sheddeth those blossoms that were weakly grown
Upon the air, but keepeth every one

Whose strength gives warrant of good fruit at last."

ou remember what I told you years ago, Cicely would yet show you my ideal of woman?" I remember very well, Walter; and you have r now, you think-were you not about to say

ol, matter-of-fact manner with which her youthip anticipated his avowal, somewhat disconalter Everson, yet he replied:

e indeed seen her, Cicely; but the reality far my ideal."

what all lovers say," his sister rejoined with a but really, Walter, I do not wonder much at tuation; Miss Morrison is bewitchingly beau

as it is," said Walter, enthusiastically; "there is a simple purity, a sacredness, so to speak, about her, that calls up all my better feelings when in her presence. And then, she has the stamp of true nobility upon her brow, which neither you nor I disdain, you know."

"True, Walter, and without which, I verily believe, no one could command our love or respect. So far, Miss Morrison is unexceptionable, certainly. But when, think you, shall I have the honor of calling her my sister ?"

"O Cicely! I dare not hope ever to call her mine! never yet have I breathed a word of love in her pure ear! I fear to break the spell her presence brings-I fear she'd spurn the heart I'd gladly lay at her feet."

"Walter, you are crazed with this new passion, or you would not talk thus! you forget that you bear the name of Everson-a name, thank heaven, never yet sullied by a drop of unworthy blood. Spurn you, indeed! With all her marvelous beauty and goodness, she may, she must feel the honor you confer upon her by such an alliance."

"Were she like others, Cicely, she might thus feel; but there's an atmosphere about her, which seems to preclude every thought of honor or worldly position. I do not think one's birth or standing in society would have the slightest influence upon her feelings."

"She's no woman, then, Walter.”

"Rather say she's woman in the highest, holiest, truest sense." Walter's face glowed with emotion as he spoke.

"Why, Walter, who would ever have thought of secing such a cold, passive being as you are, so madly in love; you've surely lost your senses. But as the surest way of regaining them, I advise you to go at once and make this fair lady your confessor-if she does not smile at your folly, you will find something, if I mistake not, beneath her proud, flashing eye, that will greatly modify your sentimental notions. Only, do not, I pray you, forget what is due to yourself and your family.”

"There is little danger of my forgetting that, Cicely; family pride has been too deeply instilled into my veins, to be easily obliterated," Walter replied, somewhat bitterly; "fortunately, Miss Morrison occupies no questionable position, so there will be no scruples upon that score. Were it otherwise, I'd sooner cut my right hand off than undertake to combat mother's prejudices."

"I think she carries them quite too far; even now, she wishes to know more fully Miss Morrison's family history, before you commit yourself. She says she has once or twice tried to question Mrs. Waters upon the subject, but she seemed to evade giving any direct answer. For my part, it is sufficient that she is Mrs. Waters's niece, and both Clarence and I are ready to give her a warm, sisterly welcome."

Walter walked the room with rapid steps for a moment in silence; then suddenly pausing before his sister he exclaimed:

"You may think me a coward or a fool, Cicely, but

I can not, nay, I dare not, ask Miss Morrison to become my wife."

"Brave heart! suppose I do it for you, then," Cicely laughingly replied; "I'll throw myself at her feet and cry: Have pity, most gracious lady, upon my poor brother, whose very soul is consuming in the fire you've kindled there, but who dares not approach your charmed presence for fear

"Come, come, Cicely, no more of your bantering; I see you do not understand me," hastily interrupted Walter.

"Then resume your manhood, and act as beseems a brother of mine, and not a love-sick swain," his sister proudly answered; "come, I have a proposition to make to you; next Thursday night, you know, our cards are out, in honor of this reigning belle-let it also be in honor of your affianced bride."

"Would to heaven it might!" exclaimed Walter, leaving the room with a determined look.

An hour later, and he stood in the presence of her whom his heart worshiped. In deep, impassioned tones, he told the story of his love, his hopes, his fears, and then, with trembling earnestness, he plead for a precious boon-her heart and hand.

And she, to whom that proud nature bowed, whose ear drank in the delicious music of his voice as it uttered those fond vows-what thought she then, as she saw her childhood's idol come down from its shrine to bend

before her! The first thrill of electric joy scarce flashed upon her heart, ere a wild and terrible tumult raged within her breast.

"Stay, Mr. Everson," she cried, with a choking voice; "I must not listen to your words; not, at least, till you know to whom you offer such a wealth of affection."

"And do I not know, Nellie? Ever since I saw you upon the mountain, like some enchanting spirit of the air alighted upon that rock, have I loved you-have I watched and waited for this hour, when I might breathe the hope of calling you mine!"

"On the mountain! upon the rock! O Mr. Everson, tell me, tell me what you mean!" The almost agonizing earnestness with which Nellie uttered these words, as she unconsciously grasped his arm, while a gleam of rapturous joy shot from her dark eye, astonished Walter Everson beyond measure.

"Then you did not know I had seen you before I met you at Mrs. Waters"," he said, tenderly taking her hand in his.

Nellie's whole soul seemed concentrated in the gaze she bent upon him, as she asked in husky tones: "Where ?"

"It was upon a mountain, Nellie-I did but gaze upon you for a moment and then you fled, but not till you had left your impress on my heart, never yet effaced. But why do you tremble so violently? Can it be, oh! blessed thought! can it be that in that deep emotion, I may read a response to my own unbounded love?