ckness only--and
then, with a vituperative epithet addressed to Caesar, the old
gentleman re-commenced reading.

Redbud and Verty entered; and then the young man held out his hand.

"Are you going?" said the girl.

"Yes," he said, smiling, "unless you will sing me something. Oh, yes!
let me go away with music in my ears. Sing '_Dulce Domum_' for me,
Redbud."

The young girl assented, with a smile; and sitting down at the
harpsichord, sang the fine old ditty in her soft, tender voice, which
was the very echo of joy and kindness. The gentle carol floated on
the evening air, and seemed to make the autumn twilight brighter,
everything more lovely--and Verty listened with a look more dreamy
than before.

Then, as she sung, his eye was turned to the picture on the wall,
which looked down with its loving eyes upon them.

Redbud ceased, and turned and saw the object of his regard.

"Mamma," she said, in a low, thoughtful voice,--"I love to think of
her."

And rising, she stood beside Verty, who was still looking at the
portrait.

"She must have been very good," he murmured; "I think her face is full
of kindness."

Redbud gazed softly at the portrait, and, as she mused, the dews of
love and memory suffused her tender eyes, and she turned away.

"I love the face," said Verty, softly; "and I think she must have been
a kind, good mother, Redbud. I thought just now that she was listening
to you as you sang."

And Verty gazed at the young girl, with a tenderness which filled her
eyes with delight.

"She will bless you out of Heaven," he continued, timidly; "for you
are so beautiful and good--so very beautiful!"

And a slight tremor passed over the young man's frame as he spoke.

Redbud did not reply; a deep blush suffused her face, and she murmured
something. Then the young head drooped, and the face turned away.

The last ray of sunlight gleamed upon her hair and pure white
forehead, and then fled away--the day was ended.

Verty saw it, and held out his hand.

"We have had a happy evening, at least I have," he said, in a low
voice; "the autumn is so beautiful, and you are so kind and good."

She did not speak; but a faint wistful smile came to her lips as she
placed her hand softly in his own.

"Look! the picture is smiling on you now!" said Verty; "you are just
alike--both so beautiful!"

"Oh!" murmured Redbud, blushing; "like mamma?"

"Yes," said Verty, "and I saw the lips smile when I spoke."

They