But now she was looking out of that window perhaps for the last time, and the unbidden tear would spring to her eye.  The books were nicely dusted, the comfortable stuffed rocking chair stood in its usual place where her father used to love to sit so well, and a splendid ottoman stood before it, which was usually her seat.  Her elegant little chair covered with crimson velvet, stood by the window, where she ever loved to linger to look out upon the mountains, always finding some new trace of beauty, as she gazed upon their cloud capped summits.  But now she must linger no longer; the rich covering was placed exactly square upon the elegant little table, and every particle of dust was banished from the room, and there were duties elsewhere that demanded her attention.  As she turned to leave the room, she raised her eyes to the portraits of her parents that hung suspended on the wall opposite her, in heavy gilt frames.  The likenesses were very natural, and now seemed smiling upon her with life-like affection.  At this time the man entered with whom she had procured board, and who had kindly offered to assist in removing any articles she might wish to convey to his house.  The dear resemblances of her idolized parents were removed from the spot they had occupied so many years, to be carried to a stranger’s home.  Henriette felt less regret at parting from the place now those loved faces were removed.  There were many little treasures associated with dear memories she would gladly have taken, but a strict sense of honor forbade her.  She turned away, locking the door, but leaving the key in it, to be turned next by a stranger’s hand.  She drew up her music stool, and seating herself upon it touched the keys of her piano with a skillful hand, and sang with a trembling voice,

  “Farewell, farewell, is a lonely sound.”

She closed the instrument as she finished the pieced saying,

“It is the last time.”

There was one hour before the auction, and already were curious eyes peering round the premises.  Every thing being arranged to their minds, Henriette dismissed the dear old nurse with many tears and a generous reward.  She would live near by and would see her every day, and this was a source of great comfort to both.

Henriette now ran down the beautiful terraced walk, through her father’s garden, till she reached a beautiful arbor on the brink of the river, where she had spent so many happy hours.  Here was her guitar, her father’s flute, and the book they had last read together.  She seated herself upon the richly cushioned seat, and looked upon the winding waters that seemed mocking her sad heart as they danced sparkling on beneath the mellow rays of the autumnal sun, its bosom ruffled by the autumnal breeze.  At the foot of the terrace her fairy skiff lay moored, which used to dance upon the wave by moonlight, while she and her father made the air resound with the melody of their music; but there was little time to linger here.