was warbling tenderly an old song his mother had sung when he was
but a child; and with the air and words so well remembered, came a
gentleness of feeling, and a love of what was pure and innocent,
such as he had not experienced for many years. In this state of mind
he entered the little porch, and stood listening for several minutes
to the voice that still flung itself plaintively or joyfully upon
the air, according to the sentiment breathed in the words that were
clothed in music; then as the voice became silent, he rapped gently
at the door, which, in a few moments, was opened by the one whose
attractions had drawn him thither.

A warm color mantled the young girl's face as her eyes fell upon so
unexpected a visitor. She remembered him as the young man she had
met on the evening before; about whom she had dreamed all night, and
thought much since the early morning. Mark bowed, and, as an excuse
for calling, asked if her mother were at home.

"My mother died when I was but a child," replied the girl, shrinking
back a step or two; for Mark was gazing earnestly into her face.

"Ah! Then you are living with your--your--"

"Mrs. Lee has been a mother to me since then," said she, dropping
her eyes to the floor.

"Then I will see the good woman who has taken your mother's place."
Mark stepped in as he spoke, and took a chair in the neat little
sitting room into which the door opened.

"She has gone over to Mr. Lofton's," said the girl, in reply, "and