your field of labor. Will you grant me this last request?" the young
man demanded nervously.

"I will, with pleasure," she replied. "I'll be ready by seven
o'clock, and I'll show you the place where tradition says an Indian
maiden jumped from the bluff into her lover's waiting skiff below,
to elude her angry father's pursuit, and lost her life on the
rocks."

"That was sad! 'Love's sacrifice' indeed, at a terrible cost!"
replied the young man thoughtfully. "I trust I'll be more successful
some day than the Indian lover was."

Lizzie trembled, and turning her eyes upon a vase of wild-flowers
that adorned the simple table, replied confusedly, "Poor Wenona!
hers was a sad fate."

"To-morrow, at ten o'clock, the stage-coach leaves. I can see you a
while in the morning, can I? So I'll bid you good night," and George
Marshall arose and extended his hand.

"Good night!" murmured Lizzie, with a sinking sensation at her
heart, and a dimness of vision that almost betrayed tears.

Night passed, and morning came-bright, clear, fresh morning; and the
young girl was awake with the dawn.

"Ah me!" she sighed, as she arranged the shining curls before her
simple mirror, "this is the last day. I am almost sorry he ever came
to Melrose. I was so interested in my school before; now, I fear