crumpled leaves. I wept at the sight, thinking of my own damask rose so
far away.

But while I wept, the rose revived. A ray of light streamed in from
above. The drooping leaves expanded; their color, even their fragrance,
returned; and it sat upright upon its stalk, a perfect flower, wanting
nothing save the dew-drops.

The vision passed, and after a pause there came strains of mournful
music. O, so mournful, so sad, so hopeless! I seemed to hear in it
groans of the dying. Tears streamed from my eyes; I sobbed like a child.

But after a little the chords were swept by a more joyous hand, and gave
forth a charming melody,--strains ravishing and delightful beyond
description. Again I wept, but now tears of joy. A heavenly rapture
pervaded my whole being.

As the last strain melted away, consciousness returned. I was standing
alone in the damp, chill cavern. The girl, with that same awful look in
her face, was crouching in her corner. I tottered towards the open door,
towards the sunshine, and sank, shivering, upon the ground. The girl
brought me something in a cup to drink,--something dark and fiery. It
put new life in my veins, and strength to my limbs.

* * * * *

_August 18._--God be thanked for a sight of the old place once more. I
could hug the very trees. The grass seems too good to walk on.

God be thanked, too, for bringing me once more under the same roof with
Elinor. Captain Welles was right. I could never have survived another
winter at the West.

They were all glad to see me. As I went in, Elinor burst out crying.
Daddy sat shelling beans.

"What are you crying for?" said he.

"Walter has come," she sobbed out.

"And what is that to be crying about?" said he.

But I saw, as he grasped my hand, that he too brushed away a tear.

Frederic and his Lucy cannot do enough for me. He tries to laugh, scold,
tease, and coax me into health. Mammy is steeping up gin and mustard,
which, they say, is a sure cure for the chills. Dearly beloved friends!
They little know how soothingly their kindness falls upon the heart of
the lonely one.

Elinor looks troubled.

They tell me of a great revival here, the like of which was never known.

I miss Aunt Bethiah. She has gone away to visit another sister of hers.

Lucy tells me that Mr. Scott has gone to England to discover his
relatives, and that his going was hastened by a talk he had with Elinor.
Poor fellow! No doubt his hear