e
giddy girls in school teazed her mercilessly, and then laid their
heads upon their pillows only to dream of lovers.

Christmas eve came. The elder ladies of the school accompanied our
Principal to the church to listen to the services of the evening. We
were scarcely seated when we perceived nearly opposite to us, that
same Philip Sidney, who was the hero of our romance. Poor Clara! I sat
by her side, and fancied I could hear the throbbing of her heart as
those dark, expressive eyes were fixed again on hers, speaking the
language of admiration too plainly to be mistaken. Then as the
services proceeded, his countenance wore a shadow of deeper thought,
and his eyes were fixed upon the speaker. Thus he remained in earnest
attention till the services closed. When we left the church, a smile,
and bow of recognition passed between him and Clara, but no word was
spoken. Our sports that evening had no power to move her to mirth, but
she remained silent and abstracted. The next Saturday Mrs. Selby came
to see her daughter, and soon after her arrival, Fan laid a small
package on the table mysteriously, saying to Clara, "You must answer
it immediately," and left the room. Clara broke the seal, and as she
removed the envelope, a ring, containing a small diamond, beautifully
set, fell to the floor. I picked it up, and looking on the inside, saw
the name of Philip Sidney. As soon as she had read the note, she gave
it to me, and placed the ring upon her finger. Then severing a small
branch from a myrtle plant, which we kept in our room as a relic of
home, she placed it, with a sprig of box, in an envelope, and, after
directing it to Philip Sidney, gave it to Fan, who enclosed it in a
letter to her brother. The note which Clara gave me was as follows:

"Forgive my presumption, dear Clara, in addressing you, so lately a
stranger. Think not that I am an idle flatterer, when I say that your
beauty and worth have awakened a deep love for you in my heart, and
this love must be my excuse. I would have sought another interview
with you, but I know the rules of your school would have forbid, and
the only alternative remaining is to make this avowal, or be forgotten
by you. I do not ask you now to promise to be mine, or even to love
me, till I have proved myself worthy of your affection. My past life
has been one of thoughtlessness and inaction, but it shall be my
endeavor in future to atone for those misspent years. Your image will
ever be