t glinted
over the rich flowers of the Persian carpet, while crowding thoughts and
fancies thronged upon her brain. Most prominent were those of Sheldon,
and his connection with the magazine for which she had written her
prizes. Amid wonderings and fancyings she fell asleep, to follow them up
in dreams, with every variation of hue and coloring. She was roaming
through the gravelled avenues of an extensive flower-garden, when a
rainbow of surpassing brilliancy spanned a circle in the air above her,
and wherever she turned her steps, it followed, hovering just above her
head; and the delicate colors seemed to strike a warm, heart-thrilling
joy down to the inmost recesses of her soul. She woke, with a delicious
sense of happiness, to find the morning sun throwing his golden beams
into her apartment.

CHAPTER XXI.

"And I did love thee, when so oft we met
In the sweet evenings of that summer-time,
Whose pleasant memory lingers with me yet,
As the remembrance of a better clime
Might haunt a fallen angel. And O, thou--
Thou who didst turn away and seek to bind
Thy heart from breaking--thou hast felt e'er now
A heart like thine o'ermastereth the mind;
Affection's power is stronger than thy will.
Ah, thou didst love me, and thou lovst me still!"

Annie's foot was on the stairs to descend to the drawing-room, on the
following evening, when she heard the old doctor's voice in the hall,
exclaiming, in tones of loud, hearty welcome,

"Why, bless my eyes! Frank Sheldon, my boy, do I behold you at last? And
to come upon me in this unexpected manner! I've a mind to throw this
orange at your head."

"Do so, sir, if you choose; but first hear my apology for this
unceremonious surprise. Business brought me----"

"I won't hear a word about an apology," interrupted the doctor,
bestowing a hearty slap on his young friend's shoulder. "Come in, boy,
come in;" and the doors of the drawing-room opened and closed after
them.

Annie ran back to her apartment in a flutter of emotion. "Sheldon there!
and he came from _that office_! Business brought him,--what would come
of it all?" She dared not hope or anticipate. She dared not think at
all; and, throwing her graceful form on a sofa, she commenced tearing
some water-color paintings she had lately been executing, into strips,
and twisting them into gas-