ong time we
sat watching the shadows as they came and went upon the bright green
grass, and listening to the music of the brook, which seemed to me to
sing more sadly than it was wont to do.

Suddenly our ears were arrested by the sound of voices, which we knew
belonged to Mr. Ashmore and Carrie. They were standing near us, just
behind a clump of alders, and Carrie, in reply to something Mr.
Ashmore had said, answered, "Oh, you can't be in earnest, for you have
only known me ten days, and beside that, what have you done with your
pale, sick lady?"

Instantly I started up, clinching my fist in imitation of brother
Billy when he was angry, but Cousin Emma's arm was thrown convulsively
around me, as drawing me closely to her side she whispered, "Keep
quiet."

I did keep quiet, and listened while Mr. Ashmore replied, "I entertain
for Miss Rushton the highest esteem, for I know she possesses many
excellent qualities. Once I thought I loved her (how tightly Emma held
me), but she has been sick a long time, and somehow I cannot marry an
invalid. Whether she ever gets well is doubtful, and even if she
does, after having seen you, she can be nothing to me. And yet I like
her, and when I am alone with her I almost fancy I love her, but one
look at your sparkling, healthy face drives her from my mind--"

The rest of what he said I could not hear, neither did I understand
Carrie's answer, but his next words were distinct, "My dear Carrie
forever."

I know the brook stopped running, or at least I did not hear it. The
sun went down; the birds went to rest; Mr. Ashmore and Carrie went
home; and still I sat there by the side of Emma, who had lain her head
in my lap, and was so still and motionless that the dread fear came
over me that she might be dead. I attempted to lift her up, saying,
"Cousin Emma, speak to me, won't you?" but she made me no answer, and
another ten minutes went by. By this time the stars had come out and
were looking quietly down upon us. The waters of the mill-dam chanted
mournfully, and in my disordered imagination, fantastic images danced
before the entrance of the old mine. Half-crying with fear, I again
laid my hand on Emma's head. Her hair was wet with the heavy night
dews, and my eyes were wet with something else, as I said, "Oh, Emma,
speak to me, for I am afraid and want to go home."

This roused her, and lifting up her head I caught a glimpse of a face
of so startling whiteness that, throwing my a