ing of that restless, energetic brilliancy which
sparkled through Theresa's thoughts. He, however, eagerly participated
in her accustomed studies, and contributed his share to our literary
recreations. I sometimes looked on the two with that involuntary wish
for the power of prophecy which so often rises upon us, and which in
great mercy we are denied, and would frequently strive to shadow forth
the destiny of beings who were now reveling in the brief, bright
interval between childhood and the world. Beautiful era! time of star
and flower, when the "young moon is on the horizon's verge," and the
young heart, lovelier still, seems on the brink of rapture, and
hallows existence with its own unshadowed and seraphic light. We have
cause to be grateful that this episode is transient, that reality
contradicts its hopes, for could its illusions last, who would pause
to think of heaven, with so much of enchanting fulfillment around us
here.

It was with instinctive pride that I felt my favorite's mental
superiority to her companion, and noticed the genuine admiration with
which Gerald acknowledged it. He was astonished at her variety of
acquirement, her daring originality of opinion, and her unstudied
readiness of expression. He was gratified, and it may be, flattered,
by the disinterested solicitude she evinced for his enjoyment, and the
readiness with which she discarded any scheme of amusement in which
his health prevented his participation. There is a period in youth
when the affections feel as a strong necessity, the desire for
sympathy, when love is yet a stranger, and friendship is as intense as
passion. Dearer than any after friend, is the one who first fills this
yearning vacancy; and though as time wears on, and separation follows,
that tie may be broken never to be re-knit, there is a halo around it
still, and it is made almost holy by the blended tints of hope and
trust, and tenderness, that, with reflected light, shine back upon its
memory.

It was the evening before Theresa's departure, and we were all
assembled at the cottage. It was impossible to feel very sad, where
the majority were so eager and fraught with hope, and yet the mother's
countenance was full of anxiety for her child. Little Amy sat on her
sister's knee, and Theresa, in her graphic language, was relating some
romantic history of her own invention, while Mrs. Germaine and myself
spoke of her. The parent's solicitude was altogether physical; she