for life--many had left the village, and some had closed their eyes
forever upon the things of earth, and entered upon the untried scenes
of eternity.

It was the close of a dreary autumn day, when the withered leaves
rustled before the cold chilly winds, and the dust was hurried on in
eddying torrents, that there came a whispered report to the ear of
Annie that Edward had returned from Boston. Her heart beat violently,
and she could scarcely stand upon her feet, as she contemplated the
pleasure of seeing him again, after so long an absence. Many were the
cordial greetings she received from her merry companions, upon the
occasion. She hurried home, eager with expectation, wondering, as she
judged him by the tumultuous beatings of her own heart, he did not
seek her sooner. As she passed on to her boarding place, she saw him
standing at a distance, in conversation with his brother, and although
his back was towards her, she mentally exclaimed,

"It is indeed my own Edward."

She made her toilet with great care, and dressed herself in such
colors as were pleasing to him, arranging her hair in the way that
he had so often praised. The fire diffused a cheerful glow round the
comfortable apartment. Annie seated herself by the window, momentarily
expecting his arrival. She took up a book and tried to read. Hour
passed after hour, and still she listened in vain for his well known
footsteps. The clock struck nine; the fire had gone out upon the
hearth, and the autumnal gale whistled mournfully round and swayed the
branches of a leafless tree that stood beneath her window.

Annie arose, extinguished her light, and again seated herself by the