Not getting a reply, Hoyt looked up and asked: "Sick, Jim? you look like a ghost." "No," he said, recovering himself with an effort; "but really, Hoyt, it wants ten minutes to nine, and you must come along with me to school. You will stop to dinner?"

"No, no; impossible. My train leaves at nine; so good-by and come and see us. I say us, for you'll find Annie and I at housekeeping then." "Ah! Fred, you've won her then ?" "Yes; and, old boy, I may as well tell you I was a little jealous of you while she was in school." “Me? Why, I should as soon thought of wooing a fire-fly as that dancing sprite!"

as he returned home, to offer himself the next Sabbath evening.

And was the other Grace to marry Doctor Day? James Hovey's sudden departure without a word of explanation, after his words and manner of the previous evening, fell like a thunderbolt on the heart of Grace B. Bradly.

She hoped and waited a month or more that a letter might explain it, but at last sadly and indignantly came to believe he was only amusing himself in his attentions, and calling pride to her aid resolved to put his image from her heart. Poor little Grace! she bravely kept up, went to her school, performed her duties faithfully, if

"Good-by;" and the friends separated at the hotel door, and Hoyt was soon after on his way westward. But he left behind what made the heart of James like lead in his bosom.

He became conscious soon after entering the school-room that the eyes of Grace were studying his face; and trying to assume a cheerfulness he was far from feeling, he thought "I must at recess tell her the news of P—.”

Accordingly, when all the scholars had left the building, he crossed to her desk and informed her of Hoyt's call, and the news he had brought. She saw how he forced himself to keep a steady tone when speaking of the other Grace, and she no longer wondered at the cloud on his brow when he entered the school-room.

And could he fail to see the exultant eyes, the whole change of manner in her as he spoke of the approaching marriage of the school-teacher at P-?

"You were not acquainted with either of these persons, I believe ?" he asked, as a solution of the change in her manner.

With one swift search of his face, she replied: "With her, no; but Doctor Day, you will recollect, bought my father's house, and I saw him a few times."

"Oh, yes, of course; but you blushed so when I mentioned his name I did not know but he was an old lover of yours."

"No, indeed," she answered.

The bell rung to recall the children, and no more was said. As usual he walked with her to the cars, saw her off with perhaps a warmer pressure of the hand than ever before, and he decided,

to shut herself in her room, throw her weary body upon her bed, and weep out her disappointment. This went on for a week. Then one Sabbath morning she failed to appear at the breakfasttable. Mrs. Grant, her kind landlady, on going to her room, found her too ill to rise. A slow fever set in, with loss of appetite and sleeplessness, and on Tuesday she was so much worse as to demand that a doctor should be called.

Doctor Day's office was on the next street, and he was summoned. He pronounced it a low nervous fever, that must have its course. Rest, quiet, he insisted upon, and leaving a prescription said he would call on the morrow.

"But, doctor, I must go to my school in a day or two; can't I?" she asked.

"No indeed; if you are there in three weeks it will be at your peril. You have exhausted a never too strong vitality, and must now recuperate."

The tears sprang to the eyes of the fatherless girl, who had taken this situation of teacher to assist in the education of a younger brother, who with herself were the only children of their widowed mother, residing in a small town fifty miles distant.

"There, there, don't be disheartened," said Doctor Day, with a most kindly smile-people said his smile did as much good as his medicines— "your school will not run away. Forget all about it for the present, and we will see how you are to-morrow."

After his departure she had a good cry, which perhaps went as far in restoring the over-tasked nerves as the doctor's prescription, which threw her into a deep sleep, in which she forgot the vexing questions of how she should make up the

loss of so much of her salary, and pay a doctor's bill, too.

The Saturday before her illness she had overheard a pupil telling another that their old teacher, Mr. Hovey, was said to be engaged to Mr. Bradly's daughter, who had gone West, and was an assistant in his school.

This was the blow that had sent Grace to a sick bed.

But hers was too pure and noble a nature to allow a man's faithlessness to overcome her sense of what she knew to be her duties to others. Slowly she convalesced, and at last was able to sit up. One of her pupils to whom she was much attached insisted on devoting herself to her through her sickness, and good Mrs. Grant racked her invention in getting up delicacies for the fastidious appetite.

In three weeks from her attack, one Saturday morning, Grace, dressed in a soft gray suit, her bright hair, innocent of all frizzes, rippling away from her broad, low brow, and knotted loosely beneath her shade hat, from which floated a blue scarf about her white throat, a bit of white lilac caught in the blue ribbon at her breast, made, coming down the steps of her boarding-house, a very pretty picture-at least so thought Doctor Day, who just then stopped his horse at the gate and asked:

"Will you take a ride? I shan't allow you to walk far yet."

Poor doctor! he had in these weeks of his visits on the lovely patient succumbed at last to the wicked little god. Hitherto he had passed unscathed through the ordeal of fascinations brought to bear upon him, as a wealthy bachelor, from the marriageable ladies, old and young, of P

Devoted to his widowed mother, who presided at his home, he had never, since his seventeenth year, when he supposed himself in love with a schoolmate, who jilted him for another, cared much for ladies' society.

But this brave little Grace, only eighteen, leaving home, and taking upon her the wearing duties of teacher in a public school, that her brother might be educated-this he had learned from Mrs. Grant-seemed such a self-sacrificing little thing, and was withal so refined, gentle, and thoroughly winsome, that as he saw her day after day he had begun to wonder if he could not love such a flower, could it be won to wear in his bosom.

Nearly twice her age, was it possible she would think of him? Dear child, if she would, how much he could do for her and her loved ones. Here was his nicely-appointed home. Dearly as he loved his mother, there were times when the vision of this fair girl, sitting by her side in the beautiful rooms, no longer obliged to labor in tasks too hard for her, came over him. And then that boy, he would make a doctor of him, if he wished; he needed a boy right away in his office, and the mother, she should come too, and the two old ladies should live over their youth in their children. Most persons who have arrived at adult age will smile doubtless at this idea of generous Doctor Day, of bringing two families under one roof. The thing don't always work well, at least.

He had thought this all out on his ride that morning, and as he seated her beside him had fully made up his mind to speak.

As he took the lines, he remarked:

"So now my little patient, I suppose, will be starting for school again soon?"

"I want to begin on Monday, if you think I may; and, doctor, if you will make out my bill I will settle it at the end of the month, if you will wait until then."

"Now, don't you go to talking of bills when all these spring glories are before you, young lady,"

he said.

"But really sir"—

"No more," he said, quickly; and smiling he pointed out the beauties of the river that then burst upon their view winding along through green banks.

A pleasant drive through the suburbs in the exhilarating air, wakened up to new life the drooping girl, whose childish exclamations of delight brought smiles to his face, when at last they turned toward home, and he abruptly asked: "Your father is dead, I believe?" "Yes; he died when I was five years old." "And do you always intend to teach school?” I suppose so; that is if I can always get one to teach."

"No danger of that; but most young ladies of your age, and I may add your attractions, decide to marry; don't they, generally?"

"I suppose some do."

"Now, don't you think you had better, too? You will hardly be able, I fear, to stand the wear and tear of our public schools."

She paused abruptly.

"For what?" he asked.

"My mother's and Willie's sake; they depend so much upon me, and would feel so badly were they to mistrust I was at all unfit for my duties." "Now, my child, I have a nice home, an ample fortune left me by my good father, and I want to share them with just such a little dear, unselfish child as you are. I'm almost twice your age; you could find many younger and more attractive men to love you than me; but none who would take better care of you and yours. Could you love me a little enough to become mistress of that home as my wife?"

As he began, the astonished eyes of Grace were lifted to his face for a moment, then as he went on, began to fill with tears, the little hands clasped nervously together, and as he paused for a reply, her tongue refused to utter a word.

At last he asked:

"Is there any other one who claims this little girl, any other she loves?"

66

"No," she at last said, lifting her clear eyes to his face, no one has any claim upon me; but there is one I fear I love, even now."

"Ah!" and a shadow fell upon the face of Doctor Day.

"You have been so kind, have so honored me with this offer of yourself and home, that I must tell you all. There was one, I don't know he loved me, but his eyes said so, and all his actions expressed it; but he is to marry another, I suppose now soon, and I must forget him," and here, though she struggled bravely to keep calmn, her head went down into her hands, and her form shook with suppressed sobs.

"This will never do; never," he said, trying to take her hands. "As your physician, I must tell you you will bring on a relapse; and think of the school," he adroitly said, knowing this would soonest bring her to calmness. At last she dried her tears, and he said, "I feared that something preyed upon your mind; that your illness was the result of mental distress as well as physical weakness. Now, think no more of a dastard who could cause such a heart as yours a grief; you will outgrow this sorrow, I think, as I did a similar one in my youth. And you will think of what I have said to you, little Grace?" and his voice fell to

girl in his arms and comfort her as a child should be; but, as a wise physician, he allowed the storm of tears to relieve the burdened heart.

At last she wiped them away, and said, with a grateful smile, a little sad, but tender still:

"Yes, I will think of your proposal. You are most kind; I am very grateful, do believe ;" and as they had now gained the street she boarded on, with a "thank you, dear child," he handed her out; and with a command to Mrs. Grant not to allow her to take her school on Monday, he drove home.

After dinner he told his mother all about it. Ridiculous as it may seem to this advanced age, this mother and son had few secrets from each other, and this had kept this noble fellow pure through his youth and college days. He had brought all his griefs to her, believed her his best friend; and though the rakes at college named him "spoony," he cared little for their contempt so his mother approved him.

Now, as with his enthusiastic manner, he unfolded his matrimonial plans, he felt greatly relieved that her first words were these:

"Poor little thing; so delicate, and alone in the city!"

"But she's not going to be alone a month longer, mother, if I can prevail on her to marry

"Why, Alfred," and the astonished eyes were lifted through her glasses, "you quite take away my breath. Think of the preparations for a bride we shall have to make."

"Nonsense, mother; here we are all right and settled, this side the house, at least."

"But the child herself; think how much she will have to do. And of course her mother will wish her to come home at once, if she consents to the wedding."

"Don't you fear, mother; I'm going to try and settle all that without that child having to go through, in her weak state, with all that nonsense of bridal trousseau, etc."

"But, Alfred"

"Not another objection, mother, if you please; just take to your sofa and nap, and I'll to my office for mine, for last night's watching has done me over."

But before Doctor Day dropped off in that nap he thought over a little sadly that other lover

Taking a plan of the window from his pocket he unfolded it before her, stooping as he did so to describe its dimensions on the ground, and as she dropped her eyes they fell upon a letter at her feet; she picked it up, saying:

"Here's a letter; I wonder who it belongs to," and turning it over she read her own name in James Hovey's handwriting.

"Your own; are you going to faint? Take this seat," placing a garden chair at a little distance. "Do you recognize the hand ?" he said, as she sank trembling into it.

"Yes, it is his; leave me, please, a moment," and he walked away to his workmen, while she tore open the letter and read the words James had written, offering heart and hand just eight

My sister Bab is a genius; I record the fact with a sigh, but without any mental reservation. It has been at times the pleasure, more frequently the pain, of my life. We were little girls, living with our grandmother since the death of our parents, when the idea first dawned upon my mind, and youthful and inexperienced as I was, it sent a chill of foreboding to my heart. Who else but a genius could model her mud pies into such varied shapes and designs? Who could draw such figures on the sand, or chalk such sketches on the barn-door or the side of the house? Even at the table the subject was still pursued, and she cut her bread into figures, and sketched on the butter-pot, at least when grandma's back was turned.

This was the day of pencils; but when the crayons came and the paints, my cup was full. An artist strayed into our neighborhood, and in one of her daily rambles Barbara crossed his path; her fate was sealed from that hour. The very sight of his appliances for work seemed to fascinate her; and to be near him and watch his labors was her perfect delight.

"Where's Barbara?" my grandmother would say to me, finding me curled up in some out-ofthe-way corner with a book. "I don't know, ma'am ;" and then a search would be instituted, and the run-away would be found in some adjacent meadow under Mr. Knight's large shade umbrella, which he used when painting; or she would come running in flushed and heated, from some more remote point at which Mr. Knight had VOL. XIV.-20

been sketching, just as the seara was at its height, and grandma beginning to be worried and a little cross. That summer, to Barbara's intense regret and to my grandmother's and my relief, came to an end, and the artist departed. But he left behind him a little sting in the shape of a box of colors, which became Barbara's most cherished treasure. She rose at dawn to use them, and could be discovered in the shades of evening still bending over and trying to continue her work. "The child will put out her eyes," my grandmother remarked, testily; and I began to fear so too. But Barbara worked serenely on, unmindful of and imperious to all opposition expressed or understood. My grandmother was in despair; but it would have broken the child's heart to deprive her of her treasure; so she unwillingly submitted.

Years passed on, and alone and unaided Barbara had made real progress; she had converted a little corner of the garret into a studio, and as my grandmother had laid an embargo on the paints being transported through the house, we were free from any damage therefrom, Barbara's face, fingers, and dress alone testifying to their unornamental powers. But those quiet days and the home labors came to an end; the dear old grandmother that had watched over our childhood was taken away from us, and Barbara and I stood alone. "We must go to the city where

I can study," she said, with unusual decision; and I, whose heart ached so sadly, and who had no engrossing pursuit like my sister, yielded. It mattered little to me where I went, so that we