in be yours, Engelbert, when virtue
has been attendant on you always.'"

"'Sit down here, on this stone, and listen for a little while to me,
dear Thora.'"

"I led her to a large stone by the roadside, which is there to this
hour, and we both sat down together. The day, sir, was bright as this;
and the corn waved, as it does now, to each breath of wind, and over our
heads, among the trees, the birds were warbling. Ah! even now, at this
distance of time--in my old age--the tear comes to my eye, and my heart
heaves and swells to the memory of that happy, happy day.

"'Hitherto, to me, dear Thora,' I said, "'life has brought no changes of
excessive pain, or pleasure; for at an early period I lost both my
parents, and, being then but young, I never knew the sweet joys of home.
Forced to struggle with men for independence, and, tossed about
whichever way the waves of fortune pleased, my heart soon became
indifferent to every gentle feeling; and, in my isolation, I never
thought to seek for sympathy, but desired, by my industry, to live in
competency, and, at the last, to leave the world as I had been sent into
it, alone.'"

"The tears began to flow down Thora's face, and, nestling closer to me,
she placed her hand on my arm, and murmured,

"'Dear Engelbert!'"

"'One evening, my own Thora, relieved from daily toil, I was sitting, as
now, under that beech-tree, enjoying the cool evening air, heeding and
listening to the sweet sights and sounds of life, and musing with
softened spirit on all that had occurred to me since my dear parents'
deaths, when I heard the gentle footstep of some one behind me. I
turned, and, by the light of the full moon, saw a female figure
approaching the spot where I was. With beating pulse I kept my eyes
fixed on the form; but I soon gazed with delight on what my fluttering
heart then almost bade me shun, and now droops with desire to take as
its own. It was you.'"

"She replied not; and her head gradually turned from me. I raised the
hand I still held, and, in a moment of passionate feeling, pressed it to
my lips, and kissed it ardently. She immediately withdrew her hand, but
seemed not altogether offended; for a smile--but oh! how sad and
prophetic of what was to occur--passed over her beautiful face.

"'Dear Thora!'" I exclaimed, "'do not torture me. Pardon me, if, in
giving expression to the sweet but painful feelings which obscure my
brow with sorrow, I offend you; but I love you, dear