atone for having dared to think of a time when the little willow
chair on the balcony would be empty, and Howard Hastings free.
Soon rallying, Ella feigned to smile at her discomposure, saying
that "consumption had been preached to her so much that she always
felt frightened at the slightest pain in her side," thoughtlessly
adding, as she glanced at her husband, "I wonder if Howard would
miss me any, were I really to die."

A dark shadow settled upon Mr. Hastings's face, but he made no
reply; and Eugenia, who was watching him, fancied she could read
his thoughts; but when they at last started for home, and she saw
how tenderly he wrapped a warm shawl around his delicate young
wife, who insisted upon going with them, she felt that however
frivolous and uncompanionable Ella might be, she was Howard
Hastings's wife, and, as such, he would love and cherish her to
the last.

By her window in the attic sat Dora Deane, poring over to-morrow's
lessons; but as the silvery voice of Ella fell upon her ear, she
arose, and going to her cousin's chamber, looked out upon the
party as they drew near the gate.

"How beautiful she is!" she whispered to herself, as, dropping her
shawl, and flinging back her golden curls, Ella sprang up to reach
a branch of locust blossoms, which grew above her head.

Then, as she saw how carefully Mr. Hastings replaced the shawl,
drawing his wife's arm within his own, she stole back to her room,
and, resuming her seat by the window, dreamed, as maidens of
thirteen will, of a time away in the future, when she, too, might