nd up this morning-glory, that
poor Fanny chanced to pull down as she ran through."

Edith disappeared in the cottage.

Marian stood with both her rosy arms raised, in the act of binding up
the vine, that with its wealth of splendid azure-hued, vase-shaped
flowers, over-canopied her beautiful head like a triumphal arch. She
stood there, as I said, like a radiant, blooming goddess of life and
health, summer sunshine and blushing flowers.

The light tramp of horse's feet fell upon her ear. She looked up, and
with surprise lighting her dark-blue eyes, beheld a gentleman mounted on
a fine black Arabian courser, that curveted gracefully and capriciously
before the cottage gate.

Smilingly the gentleman soothed and subdued the coquettish mood of his
willful steed, and then dismounted and bowing with matchless grace and
much deference, addressed Marian.

The maiden was thinking that she had never seen a gentleman with a
presence and a manner so graceful, courteous and princely in her life.
He was a tall, finely proportioned, handsome man, with a superb head, an
aquiline profile, and fair hair and fair complexion. The great charm,
however, was in the broad, sunny forehead, in the smile of ineffable
sweetness, in the low and singularly mellifluous voice, and the manner,
gentle and graceful as any woman's.

"Pardon me, my name is Willcoxen, young lady, and I have the honor of
addressing--"

"Miss Mayfield," said Marian.

"Thank you," said the gentleman, with one involuntary gaze of
enthusiastic admiration that called all the roses out in full bloom upon
the maiden's cheeks; then governing himself, he bent his eyes to the
ground, and said, with great deference: "You will pardon the liberty I
have taken in calling here, Miss Mayfield, when I tell you that I am in
search of an unhappy young relative, who, I am informed, passed here not
long since."

"She left us not ten minutes ago, sir, much against our wishes. My
sister has just sent a servant to the forest in search of her, to bring
her back, if possible. Will you enter, and wait till she returns?"

With a beaming smile and graceful bend, and in the same sweet tones, he
thanked her, and declined the invitation. Then he remounted his horse,
and bowing deeply, rode off in the direction Fanny had taken.

This was certainly a day of arrivals at Old Fields. Usually weeks would
pass without any one passing to or from the cottage, except Marian,
whose cheerful, kindly, soc