e tops of the
forest-pines, at the diamond stars hung in the far-off heaven, gazed
Annie Evalyn through that long, dreary winter, from the window of that
rude hut in the solitary depths of Scraggiewood. How she mourned o'er
her shattered idols, all fallen and wasted on their shrines! What a blow
had been dealt her sensitive nature! "O, it was so bitter cruel!" she
thought; "and what had she done that she should suffer thus?"

In vain her aunt tried to soothe and solace, by telling her time would
bring better hopes. Parson Grey would sometimes drop in of a Saturday
evening to coax and encourage his former pupil, and bring some nice
tit-bit to tempt Annie's delicate relish.

"You will regain your health and spirits when the spring opens, my
child," he would say. "Netta will come home, and we shall have you over
to the Parsonage, and all will seem like old times again. Then you must
resume that pen of yours, Annie, and let it write down those speaking
thoughts that lie in your inventive brain. You know my old doctrine; it
is a glorious thing to do good, and you can exert a happy and extensive
influence upon society. I know you will not abuse the noble faculties
given you by the great Creator."

"Ah, he does not know all!" Annie would think. "I once was vain enough
to suppose I possessed faculties and powers to act a brave part in life;
but they've been bruised and broken in the very outset. I've no energy,
no aspirations; because there's nothing in the future to beckon me on.
Wherever I turn is desolation; and I despise my weakness as much as I
lament my misfortune. But I'll no more of a world that has dealt me my
death-blow. Here, in this solitude of nature, let me die and sink to
oblivion."

Thus she ruminated, while the shadowy wintry days sped on; and reason,
weak and powerless in the headlong tide of passion that swept and swayed
in her breast, was buffeted and submerged in the furious waves; and yet,
when the storm had spent its fury, should it not arise clear and
brilliant, and over the subsiding tumult be heard to utter a calm, proud
jubilate of triumph and redemption?

Spring came at last. The snows disappeared; buds swelled on the tall
trees, and burst forth into canopies of leafy-green, and the feathered
songsters came hieing from southern bowers, with wings of light and
songs of gladness. Annie began to brighten; slowly, and almost
imperceptibly at first, and without her own knowledge or consent. Those
fa