stinctly in his memory; the dreary and sad twilight, and
the breeze's soft play over the waving grass, and the hum of the
insects, and the murmur of the city's noise that came pleasantly from
the distance, like the moving of far-off waters. Oh! these things can
never die out of his remembrance. How can they! Doesn't he cherish them
religiously, coming always at the vesper time to the same spot to live
them over and over again?

Even through the dreary winters he but closes his eyes and the verdure
is there, and the beauty.

No need of that to-night, however, for the chilly season has again
passed away, and the old elm is rich in her emerald robes, and the
breath of the soft winds is upon him, and the same murmur in his ear.
There is only the small hand and the gentle words wanting to make it all
a precious reality. Is it his fancy that at this moment brings them so
palpably to him? Is the vision of a graceful figure, and a white dress,
and a pure face beaming upon him with the lovely expression only a
delusion of his excited mind! Or is it really her own voice that comes
to him so earnestly. "Oh! speak, Archie, pray speak! don't you remember
Kittie?" It was of no use to call upon him, the shock was too much for
his delicate organization, and whiter than the spotless muslin was the
brow that the maiden loved, as she supported the drooping head, and
strove to recall the fainting breath.

His heart beat more painfully than ever as the warm life-blood flowed
evenly again, for that one moment had told him that he loved, and the
revelation was as death. To linger upon the earth, to see and hear her
continually, and to press back the deep and springing emotions that were
ever welling up toward her. How could he do it! it were worse than death
itself! And yet he spoke calmly and naturally as she walked with him to
the cottage, and quietly watched her as she talked with the old people;
but the light in his heart went out as she passed over the threshold
into the stilly night--and the struggle was a victorious one.

Kittie was pondering upon it all--the agitation, and the pallor, and the
overwhelming joy, and a secret delight filled her soul as she sought
again the tree. There was no wavering of purpose as the vow went forth
from that same consecrated place to be true to the convictions that she
now felt. How long a period had elapsed since she stood there before.
She is no more forgetful of it than Archie, and she draws forth