“Yes, who will deny the magic influence of association?  After all, Dr. Bryant, it is not the intrinsic beauty of an object that affords us such delight, but ofttimes the memory of the happy past, so blended with the beauty viewed as scarcely to be analyzed in the soothing emotions which steal into the heart.  Such a night as this ever reminds me of the beautiful words of Willis, in his ‘Contemplations;’ and, like Alethe, I often ask, ’When shall I gather my wings, and, like a rushing thought, stretch onward, star by star, up into heaven?’”

A silence ensued for several moments, and then the cry of “Water!” “water!” fell refreshingly on the ears of the wearied travelers, and the neighboring stream was hailed as joyfully as was in olden time the well of Gem-Gem.

Soon the tents were pitched, and a bright crackling fire kindled.  Florence, declaring she was too much fatigued for supper, threw herself on her pallet.  Aunt Lizzy and Mrs. Carlton were busily unpacking some of their utensils, and Mary, closely wrapt up, stood by the blazing logs, thinking how cheerful its ruddy light made every object seem, and wondering if, after all, the Ghebers were so much to blame, Mr. Carlton joined her; and after inquiring how she bore their very fatiguing ride, remarked that in a few more days their journeyings would be over.

“I shall almost regret its termination.  This mode of traveling seems very pleasant to me, and you, who are strong and well, must enjoy it much more.”

Just then the sound of approaching hoofs caused her to look toward their wagon; and she perceived two men mounted, one in the act of descending, while Dr. Bryant advanced quickly to meet him.

Mr. Carlton left her.  Silently she looked on, wondering who the strangers could possibly be, when the words fell with startling distinctness on her listening ear: 

“Dudley Stewart! do my eyes deceive me?”

“Frank Bryant is it possible I meet you here?”

The tones of the last speaker were too familiar to be mistaken.  She trembled from head to foot as the past rose before her.  Her first thought was of Florence.

“Oh, if he is married, this meeting will be terrible!” and her heart throbbed violently as the gentlemen approached her.  Scarce conscious of her movements, she advanced to meet Dr. Bryant, whose arm was linked in that of the new comer.  They met:  the fire-light glowed on the face of both.

“Mr. Stewart!” and the wasted hand was extended.

“Mary Irving! or is this an illusion?” Tightly the hand was clasped.

“It is I——­your old pupil, though so altered, I wonder not that you fail to recognize me.”  She lifted her eyes and met Dr. Bryant’s gaze, deep and piercing, as though he were reading her inmost soul.  Mr. Stewart looked long at the face turned toward him.

“Frank, you did not tell me she was with you!  Oh, how changed—­how wasted you are!  But what means this black dress?” and his fingers clutched her mourning gown, while his deep tone faltered.  Mary drew closer to his side, and murmured: