a had failed thus far, but she was not discouraged. Mr.
Monteith's mother was old and feeble; she would die some day, then
"we shall see what we shall see"--then, of course, he would need
someone to preside over his home; and who so well fitted to adorn it
as she, the acknowledged beauty of the town?

When the time of birds and blossoms had come again, and picnics and
excursions were revived, Paulina said to her dearest friend:

"What do you think that delightful man has gotten up now? Mr.
Monteith, I mean. He is to have a little breakfast party in the
country--just a few of us, you know. We are to go in carriages. I
dare say you'll be invited, too. Isn't it a charming novelty? I
presume it is to an old uncle and aunt of his, you know," and the
butterfly girl tripped on without waiting for replies. Accordingly,
one balmy June morning, a merry company alighted at "The Pines," and
were ushered into a fairy-like room.

Green vines crept and twined along the white walls, drooping over
doors and windows, and trailing down the muslin curtains as if they
grew there. The flowers were not made into stiff bouquets, but here
and there was a handful of roses or sweet-scented violets. The old
fireplace lost itself in callas, ferns, and ivies, while the mantel
blossomed out into tube-roses and mosses. One of the recesses formed
by the large chimney was turned into a leafy bower, the bells of
white lilies fringing the green archway.

"Beautiful!" "Exquisite!" murmured the guests. "I verily believe we
have come to a wedding," said one.

In another moment Mr. Monteith and his bride stood in the niche under
the lilies, and the minister spoke the mystic words that declared
them "no more twain, but one."

Edna was not glittering in satin and jewels. Her dress was apparently
a soft white cloud floating about her, looped here and there with a
cluster of lilies of the valley. A wreath of the same flowers
fastened her veil; and the sweet face and luminous eyes that gleamed
through its folds seemed just another rare flower.

The formalities and congratulations all over, Mr. and Mrs. Monteith
passed down the walk under the spreading branches to their carriage.

The apple-blossoms showered fragrant blessings on them as they went
their way, and the bridegroom whispered: "Do you remember the first
time you and I came up this hill together?"

VIDA.

There was an audible rustle in the large congregation of St. Paul's
Church, well