her
seat, and opening the window upon the balcony she stepped forth into the
night air, and kneeling by the balustrade, remained, motionless as a
statue until a soft kiss upon her forehead assured her that she was
forgiven. The stars looked down with a brighter twinkle, and the autumn
wail grew into a sweet harmony as the two reconciled cousins stood with
clasped hands gazing upward.

CHAPTER XXXII.

"Good-by, uncle; good-by auntie; good-by girls," said Jennie, as she was
pressed to the bosom of her relatives at the parting hour. "Simon, don't
forget the dear old seat," continued she, putting a coin in his hand,
and turning tearfully toward the carriage where Mrs. Dunmore was
awaiting her, and then springing back to give one more kiss to her
uncle, and to whisper something in Carrie's ear that sent the warm blood
quickly to her face.

Henry and Rosalie were there to bid her adieu, and golden-curled Minnie,
too, with a bunch of autumn leaves in her little hand, which she had
gathered on the way as a parting gift, and which she now held up
beseechingly to Jennie, who stooped to embrace her, and taking the
withered tokens, hastened to hide her emotion in the furthest recess of
the carriage that bore her away from the home of her kindred. It seemed
to those who watched the receding travelers, as if a blight had fallen
upon their pleasant things; as if the winter had suddenly come and
frozen up all the springs of pleasure and delight, for that young girl's
presence, though unobtrusive in its influence, had diffused warmth and
gladness all about her, and now that she was gone the warmth and
gladness had also departed, and a mournful group turned back into the
house with a mournful feeling, almost as if the grave had swallowed up
one of its inmates. Old Simon betook himself to the seat beneath the
trees, and with his knees crossed, and a dolorous motion of his gray
head, he muttered,

"I thought it couldn't be all in the name! the likeness was amazin'!
amazin'!" And forth from the stilly air seemed to come to the good old
butler's ear, "Dear little Jennie! dear little Jennie!"

CHAPTER XXXIII.

Six years have passed, and beneath the old maples sits Nurse Nannie,
wrinkled and bent, with a wee babe upon her lap, while a girl of two
years and a half plays with her doll upon the lawn, now and then looking
up to catch mamma's smile, or to wonder why dear papa looks so grave
when Grandmamma Dunmore tells him