a while, and so anxious am I to be able to
pass an examination, I often go to the office and read law till
midnight."

When this effusion reached Alice the mountains around Sandgate were just
putting on their autumn glory of color, and that night when she sat on
the porch and heard the katydids in the fast thinning foliage of the
elms she had what she called an old-fashioned fit of the blues. And how
lonely it was there, too!

Aunt Susan, never a talkative person, sat close, but as dumb as a graven
image; no house near, and only the twinkling lights of several the other
side of the valley visible. On a knoll just below them she knew were a
few score of white headstones, among them her mother's, and when there
was a moon she could see them plainly. It is during the lonely hours of
our lives that we see ourselves best, and this quiet evening--no more
quiet than many others, perhaps, but seemingly so to Alice--she saw
herself and her possible future as it seemed to be. Every word of her
lover's letter had been an emissary of both joy and sorrow--joy that he
was so devoted to her, and sorrow because she felt that an impassable
barrier separated them. "He will forget me in a few months," she said to
herself, "and by the time he has won his coveted law degree his scheming
mother will have some eligible girl all ready for him to fall in love
with. As for me, she will never have the chance to frown at me, for even
if Blanch begs I would never set foot in her house!" When her feelings
had carried her up to this point she arose, and, going into the parlor,
began playing. Her piano was the best and about the only companion she
had, and quickly responded to her moods. And now what did it tell? She
played; but every chord was a minor one, full of the pathos of tears and
sorrow. She sang; but every song that came to her lips carried the same
refrain, and told only of hungry hearts and unanswered love. And last
and worst of all, almost insensibly her fingers strayed to the chords of
one well-remembered song. One verse only she sang, and when the last
pathetic line was ended she arose and with a "What a fool I am to care,
anyway!" muttered to herself, went back to the porch where her aunt was
sitting. And then, as the moon came up from behind the mountain,
flooding the narrow valley with pale light, in spite of herself her eyes
strayed to that little knoll where the white stones showed clear and
distinct. It was the last straw, and g