can never die. We have nothing in the world except each other, dear
sister, and no matter what may come, our love can never change."

She snatched up the paper and threw herself into a chair.

"Where did it come from"? she cried. "What evil genius placed it here
this night? Haven't I, years ago, torn and destroyed every word that
wretched boy ever wrote me?"

She tossed her arms over her head, and rocked back and forth, and
groaned aloud. She could not help her thoughts now, or keep them from
going back over the past. Her heart softened as she remembered, and the
scalding tears fell.

She was only a child, not much older than the one up-stairs, when her
dying mother had placed her baby-brother in her arms, saying:

"He is all I have to leave you, Amanda. I know you love him. Don't ever
be harsh or unforgiving to him."

How had she kept her trust? She had loved him. She had worked early and
worked late for him. She had given up everything; but she had been
ill-repaid.

"Ill," do I say? Verily, is this not true of Love: that it brings its
own blessedness?

The fire burned low, and the room settled cold and still. She seemed to
feel a pair of boyish arms about her neck and a boy's rough kiss upon
her cheek.