that she was
started by a loud ringing of the door bell. Supposing it was some one
after her uncle, she paid little heed till she heard her own name
called, and in a moment after Edward Merton stood before her. He
extended his hand, exclaiming, "My Annie." There was a marble paleness
upon her cheek, and with a trembling voice she saluted him. He said
as he was returning from Augusta he thought he would take that
opportunity to return her letters, and take his, at the same time
drawing a small package from his pocket. She took them with a
trembling hand, but strove to appear calm, for she saw he was watching
her with Argus eyes to fathom the secret recesses of her soul.

She entered her chamber and took from a small box, which was a gift
from Edward, those dear old letters, over which she had wept so often,
and which breathed tender tones of love and affection, and spoke of
happy wedded days in the perspective.

But now she must part with these too. She pressed them once more to
her heart, and entering the room, presented them to him. He glanced at
her earnestly as he took them from her, saying as he did so,

"You do not look well, Miss Somers."

She colored slightly, and replied,

"O yes sir, I am quite well."

"I suppose," continued he, "you have heard that I was about being
married."

"I have," was her brief answer.

"It is a mistake, I have no idea of it," and wishing her a hasty good
afternoon he took his leave without any reference to or explanation of
past events.

Annie sat like a statue after his departure, crushing the letters in
her hands, gazing upon vacancy. A marble paleness overspread her face,
and she felt now that her cup of misery was indeed full. She laid
aside her work, and locking herself in her chamber gave vent to her
feelings in a passionate flood of tears. She tried to conquer her
feelings and summon her woman's pride to her aid, but it would not
do. "Cruel Edward," she mentally exclaimed, "you might have spared me
this, or told me the cause of this neglect and coldness." And as she
reflected upon the trapping of wealth with which he was surrounded,
and the splendor of his equipage, she asked herself, "can it be that
love of gold is the cause?" Echo answered "can it be?"

As the weary night drew to a close, the tempest in the poor girl's
bosom began to subside. But as the heaving ocean bears upon its waves
plank after plank of the ship-wrecked vessel that has been stranded
upon its