ound book I had ever seen.

"Yours is the prettiest," she said, admiringly, as I turned over the
leaves, looking at the engravings.

"Don't you like it, dear?" she asked, surprised that I was so silent over
my prize.

"Yes--if it had not come from Mr. Bovyer."

"Why, Medoline! not like a gift coming from one so kind and true as he
is?"

"I wish I had never seen him." I threw down the book and burst into
tears.

"Surely, Medoline, you have not fallen in love with him? I should be so
sorry, for he is not a marrying man."

"No, indeed," I cried, indignantly; "but----" And then I stopped; for
what right had I to tell his secret?

"Oh, Mrs. Flaxman, is it not dreadful to be young? Men are such a
trouble."

"Why, my child, what is the matter? You act so strangely I do not
understand you."

"No? Well, I cannot explain. But won't you ask Mr. Winthrop, please, if I
must keep this book?"

"Why, certainly you must keep it. It would be rude to return Mr. Bovyer's
gift."

"But you will ask?"

"Oh, yes, if you insist; but he will only smile, and say it is one of
Medoline's oddities."

I went to my room. But the traces of my tears must be removed, and the
dinner-bell was already ringing. However, at the risk of being late, I
broke the seal of my letter. I was getting terrified lest it might be
another proposal of marriage from some unexpected quarter; for, I
reflected, when misfortunes begin to come they generally travel in
crowds; but this was not a love-letter. It read:

"Dear Miss Selwyn:--I have been informed of your kindness of
heart and sympathy for all who are in distress, and therefore am
emboldened to come to you for help. If you would call on me to-morrow,
at 3 P. M., at Rose Cottage, Linden Lane, you would confer a lasting
favor on a sorrowing sister. I am yours, very respectfully,

"Hermione Le Grande."

P. S.--I must ask for perfect secrecy on your part, and that no mention
whatever of my name, or letter, be made at Oaklands. I trust to your
honor in the matter.

H. L.

I locked the letter up in my drawer and hastened to the dinner that
certainly would not be kept waiting for me. I was hoping that the
question about Mr. Bovyer's book would be asked and answered in my
absence; but was disappointed; for just as Mr. Winthrop arose from the
table, at the close of dinner, Mrs. Flaxman mentioned the arrival of the
books, and whence they came.

"It is quite profitable, chaperonin