“The words are very pretty, are they not?” said Alice.  “I was listening so closely to the melody that I did not catch them all.”

“I will read them to you,” rejoined Quincy, and going to the window, where the light was still bright enough, he read the words of the song in a low, impassioned voice: 

    “Now the day is slowly waning,
      Evening breezes softly, softly moan;
    Wilt thou ne’er heed my complaining,
      Canst thou leave me thus alone? 
    Stay with me, my darling, stay! 
      And, like a dream, thy life shall pass away,
      Like a dream shall pass away.

    “Canst thou thus unmoved behold me,
      Still untouched by love, by love so deep? 
    Nay, thine arms more closely fold me,
      And thine eyes begin to weep! 
    Stay with me, my darling, stay! 
      And, like a dream, thy life shall pass away,
      Like a dream shall pass away.

    “No regret shall e’er attend thee,
      Ne’er shall sorrow dim thine eyes;
    ’Gainst the world’s alarms to ’fend thee,
      Gladly, proudly, would I die! 
    Stay with me, my darling, stay! 
      And, like a dream, thy life shall pass away,
      Shall pass away.”

As Quincy finished reading, Leopold and Rosa came suddenly into the room.

“We were not eavesdropping,” explained Leopold, “but just as we were going to enter the room we heard your voice and knew that you were either reading or speaking a piece, so we waited until you had finished.”

“I was only reading the words of a new song that I brought down to Miss Pettengill,” said Quincy; “she liked the melody and I thought she would appreciate it still more if she knew the words.”

“Exactly,” said Leopold; “that’s the reason I don’t like opera, I mean the singing part.  All that I can ever make out sounds like oh! ah! ow! and when I try to read the book in English and listen to the singers at the same time I am lost in a hopeless maze.”

The young gentlemen were soon on their way to their hotel, and the next afternoon found them again in Boston.

The month of June was a busy, but very enjoyable one, for both Alice and Rosa.  They were up early in the morning and were at work before breakfast.  They ate heartily and slept soundly.  Every pleasant afternoon, when tea was over, they went riding.  Tommy Gibson held the reins, and although Dolly was not yet in her teens, she knew every nook and corner, and object of interest on the island, and she took a child’s delight in pointing them out, and telling the stories that she had heard about them.  The books that Quincy brought on his last visit were utilized, and Miss Very made up another list to be sent to him before his next visit.

The proofs of three more stories Mr. Ernst sent down by mail, and after correction, they were returned to him in a similar manner.  Little Dolly Gibson was impressed into service as a reader, for Rosa could not read and correct at the same time, and there was no obliging Mr. Sawyer near at hand.  As Huldy had said, Alice did miss him.  It must be said, in all truthfulness, not so much for himself, but for the services he had rendered.  As yet, Alice’s heart was untouched.