engrossed in earnest thought, sat gazing out till the Orient shone
resplendent, and an October sun poured his rays gloriously around her.
Then she knelt, and prayed as she had never done before. She sought
the "pure fountain of light," and implored strength and guidance
in her search after truth. Rising, her glance fell on her sleeping
cousin, and she was struck with the change which within the last month
had taken place in her appearance. Approaching the bed, she lifted the
masses of chestnut hair that clung to the damp brow. As she looked on
the pure, pale face, there came a gush of tenderness into her soul,
and bending, she imprinted a long, warm kiss. Mary stirred, and opened
her eyes.

"Ah, Florry, you are up earlier than usual." She closed them again,
murmuring slowly, "I feel as though I had no strength remaining; I can
scarcely lift my head."

"Sleep, Mary, if you can. I will shut out the light, and call you
again after a while."

"No, Florry, I must not give way to such feelings; indeed they are
getting quite too common of late; I can't think what makes me so weak
and feverish."

An hour later, as they stood together at the door of their little
dining-room, a body of Mexican cavalry dashed furiously past their
gate. The cousins looked full at each other. Then Florence said in a
low, calm tone: "You are right, Mary; we will go from this place; I
feel now that it is for the best." She averted her face; but Mary saw
an expression of keen agony resting there. "Florry, let us consult
Mrs. Carlton. She will advise us what would be best to do in this