a few stray words, have been stored up as
precious memories! Is there any flattery like it? What an ecstasy to
feel that we could impart value to the veriest commonplace, and, without
an effort, without even a will, sit enthroned within some other heart!

What wisdom there was in that old fable of the husbandman, who
bequeathed the treasure to his sons to be discovered by carefully
turning over the soil of their land, delving and digging it
industriously! How applicable is the lesson it teaches to what goes on
in our daily lives, where, ever in search of one form of wealth, our
labors lead us to discover some other of which we knew nothing! Little
had Alfred Layton ever suspected that, while seeking to gain May's
affection, he was winning another heart; little knew he that in that
atmosphere of love his deep devotion made, she--scarcely more than a
child--lived and breathed, mingling thoughts of him through all the
efforts of her mind, till he became the mainspring of every ambition
that possessed her. And now he knew it all. Yes, she confessed, as one
never again fated to meet him, that she loved him. "If," wrote she, "it
is inexpressible relief to me to own this, I can do so with less shame
that I ask no return of affection; I give you my heart, as I give that
which has no value, save that I feel it is with you, to go along with
you through all the straits and difficulties of your life, to nourish
hope for your success and sorrow for your failure, but never to meet you
more.... Nor," said she, in another place, "do I disguise from myself
the danger of this confession. They say it is man's nature to despise
the gift which comes unasked,--the unsought heart is but an undesired
realm. Be it so. So long as the thought fills me that _you_ are its
lord, so long as to myself I whisper vows of loyalty, I am not worthless
in my own esteem. I can say, '_He_ would like this; _he_ would praise me
for that; some word of good cheer would aid me here; how joyously _he_
would greet me as I reached this goal!"

"Bravely borne, dear Clara! would requite me for a cruel sacrifice. You
are too generous to deny me this much, and I ask no more. None of us can
be the worse of good wishes, none be less fortunate that daily blessings
are entreated for us. Mine go with you everywhere and always."

These lines, read and re-read so often, weighed heavily on Layton's
heart; and she who wrote them was never for an instant from his
thoughts. At fi