It was again June—­mild, lovely June.  The air was filled with the sweet music of the birds that carolled their evening lay, and seemed pouring forth a sweet song of gratitude to Heaven, for that delightful day.  Gentle breezes sighed through the leafy trees soft as the first whispering of young love, giving them a trembling motion, like a bashful maiden as she blushingly listens to it.  Beautiful looked the little village of W——­, as the setting sun cast his slanting rays upon it, tinging the leaves with deeper green, and burnishing the little stream with gems of sparkling gold.  The tall lilac bushes were filled with large red and white blossoms, and as they slightly nodded their graceful heads before the passing zephyr, might have been fancied to be giving a cold greeting to some humbler flower that grew by their side.

In a large, square, old fashioned house, encircled by a neat white fence, which separated it from the street, might be seen a young girl, occupied in what New England housewives would call setting the house in order, and very carefully are all things arranged, the crockery being nicely washed and wiped to a shining brightness, stands neatly arranged in their proper places, on shelves scoured to a snowy whiteness.  The floor is nicely swept, every chair carefully dusted, and set back in its proper place, and the broom and the brush hung back upon their accustomed nail.  The young mistress stood looking round the apartment with the air of one who feels they have accomplished well the designated task, when she started upon hearing her own name called, and in a moment Edward Merton stood by her side.

“Annie, come, Annie, just don your sun-bonnet, and walk with us to the Island.”

Suiting the action to the word, he placed her bonnet upon her head, and drew her willing arm in his, and they soon joined the group of gay companions that stood chatting and laughing at the door.  Well did the sable dress that Annie wore become her fine complexion, for the rose blended with the lily upon her cheek, and beauty sat triumphant upon her ruby lips and sparkled in her dark flashing eyes.  But recent events had cast an expression of melancholy over her countenance, which for a moment had a sobering influence over her young companions when she joined them.

Edward and Annie lingered a little behind the rest, talking of their future prospects, and of the coming separation, as Edward was soon to leave for Boston, where a more desirable situation was offered him than could be obtained in the village.

“My increased income, my dear Annie, will enable me the sooner to claim you for my bride; true, the separation will be painful, but I am determined never to marry till I can commence house-keeping genteelly.”

She looked earnestly in his face and said, “Edward, it is home where the heart is, and it seems to me we should not spurn a present for a future good.  This life is short and uncertain, and I feel a gloomy foreboding when I think of your departure, I have been so accustomed to seeing you every day, to leaning on your arm in every walk, and going so constantly with you everywhere, that I shall miss you sadly when you are away; but,” she continued, smiling through her tears, “I suppose I must turn nun” and live in seclusion during your absence?”