d!" burst gladly from her lips,
and in another second a fine manly youth had darted through the open
casement, and the long parted brother and sister were in each other's
arms. For a minute only Ellen was pressed in his embrace, and then
releasing her, he turned towards his aunt, and even as a devoted mother,
a fond and dutiful son, they met, for such had they been in the long
years of separation. Frequently had that high-spirited boy been tempted
to error and to sin, but as a talisman had her letters been. He thought
on the years that were passed, on their last interview, when every word
had graven itself upon his heart, on the devotedness of his orphan
sister, the misery he had once occasioned; he thought on these things,
and stood firm,--the tempter fled. He stood before them erect in
youthful beauty, no inward stain bade him turn from those fond looks or
shrink from the entwining arms of his young sister. And, oh, how blessed
is it thus to meet! to feel that vanished years have not estranged us,
distance has not diminished love, that we are to each other even as we
parted; to feel again the fond kiss, to hear once more the accents of a
voice which to us has been for years so still,--a voice that brings
with it the gush of memory! Past days flit before us; feelings,
thoughts, hopes, we deemed were dead, all rise again, summoned by that
secret witchery, the well-remembered though long silent voice. Let
years, long, lingering, saddening years drag on their chain, let youth
have given place to manhood, manhood to age, still will it be the
same--the voice we once have loved, and deemed to us for ever still--oh,
time, and grief, and blighted hope will be forgotten, and youth, in its
undimmed and joyous beauty, its glow of generous feelings, its bright
anticipations, all, all again be ours.

"Mother; yes, now indeed may I call you mother!" exclaimed Edward, when
the agitation of this sudden meeting had subsided, and he found himself
seated on a sofa between his aunt and sister, clasping the hand of the
former and twining his arm caressingly round the latter. "Now indeed may
I indulge in the joy it is to behold you both again; now may I stand
forth unshrinkingly to meet my uncle's glance, no guilt, or shame, or
fear has cast its mist upon my heart. This was your gift," he drew a
small Bible from his bosom. "I read it, first, because it had been
yours, because it was dear to you, and then came other and holier
thoughts, and