Seated on a low chair, in the simple little parlor of Annie, sat Edward, with a pillow upon his breast, supporting the head of the poor girl, whose breathing was laborious, and her cheeks flushed with an unusual glow, as she leaned against him for support.  This was the only situation in which she could breathe, as there was an abscess forming in her throat.  Her physician said she must sit bending forward, as there was great danger of its producing strangulation, should it break when she was in any other position, which he thought probably it might do before morning.  Edward, therefore, could not think of leaving her; but kept his patient watch by her side during the night, alleviating her sufferings by every means in his power, speaking tender words of constancy and love, and picturing long years of connubial felicity after he had won a fortune in the distant city.

Suddenly there came a brighter flash, a deeper crash, and it seemed for the moment that the house was immersed in a lurid glare of light.  Annie, screaming, started to her feet, then fell back, fainting, and black in the face with suffocation.

Edward thought, as he caught her falling form, that all was over; but after a short struggle she recovered, and the crisis of her disease had past, and she could now breathe easier than she done for several days.

She had taken cold during their stay on the Island, and had been sick from that time.  The storm had spent its fury, and the clouds had passed away, leaving the blue canopy of heaven studded with golden stars, and all nature was refreshed by the rain that had fallen during the shower.

Annie dropped into a sweet slumber, the first that had visited her eyes for several nights; and Edward revolved many things in his mind, as he held her to his heart.  Would she remain constant during his absence, and meet him with the same affectionate greeting?  What would be the changes that would take place in that time? for he felt there must be changes.  And, last of all, would his feelings be the same towards her? truly, of this there was no doubt—­was she not his own sweet Annie, who for three years had been his affianced bride, and, surely, there could be no change in him.  But Edward Merton had not then explored all the secret chambers of his own heart, and realized not that it was an unwarranted ambition that, even then, was urging him to leave the object of his affection, postpone his projected marriage, and leave the friends of his youth where competence rewarded his toil, for the purpose of acquiring wealth in a land of strangers.  The golden sun gemmed the drops of the previous night with the diamond’s lustre, and the voice of active life awoke in the village, ere Annie awoke from her slumber, exclaiming,

“Why, Edward, is it possible I have slept so late? but wearied nature was quite exhausted.”

“You look finely refreshed,” said he, giving her the parting kiss; “but I must away to my shop.”