After many months of a life of intensity, it was with a sense of relief that Dawn, upon opening a letter from Miss Weston, received information of her intention of making her a short visit.  This would so change the tenor of her life, that she was overjoyed at the thought of the happiness in store for her.  But when, at the close of a bright summer day, she met her friend at the door, and recognized the life of Ralph so closely blended with her spirit, she involuntarily shrank from her approach, and almost regretted that she had come.  She, however, quickly rallied all her forces, fearful lest the shadow might be mistaken for that of uncordiality, and drawing her tenderly to her side, imprinted her warmest kisses upon her lips.

Tears sprang to Edith’s eyes, and coursed down her cheeks; tears which Dawn could not comprehend, for her vision, both mental and spiritual, was clouded, her thoughts wandered, and her words seemed vague and indirect.

Seated in the library after tea, she asked her friend to sing for her.

Miss Weston readily complied, and sang with beautiful pathos and feeling, Schubert’s Wanderer.

“Why that song?” said Dawn, as Edith rose from the instrument.

“I seemed to sing it for you, for I, surely, am no wanderer now.”

The color rose to Dawn’s face, as she said quickly, “I hope not.  Then you, at last, have found rest?”

“Perfect peace and rest.  I think I never found my home before; for I am so happy with Ralph and Marion.”

Was Dawn jealous?  What did that blushing face mean, followed by a whiteness rivalling that of the snow?  Was it caused by fear, or hope?

Miss Weston seemed not to notice her agitation, but continued praising Ralph and his sister, till her listener proposed a walk in the garden before retiring.

They strolled among the flowers and shrubbery, and then sat upon the same seat which her father and mother had so often occupied.

Her tears could flow now and not be seen, so she repressed them no longer, but allowed them to fall freely over her blanched cheek.

“Dawn,” said Edith, suddenly, “I have a fairy tale which I wish to read to you to-night, before we go to our slumbers.”

Dawn, glad of any diversion, gladly assented, and they went into her room, where they sat together, while Edith read the following tale:—­

“In the days of chivalry, when life to the wealthy was a series of exciting enjoyments, and to the poor a hopeless slavery, a Fairy and a beautiful child lived in an old castle together.  The owner of this large and neglected building had been absent on the crusade ever since the time which gave him a daughter and deprived him of a wife; but many an aged pilgrim brought occasional tidings of the glory he was winning in the distant land.  At last it was said he was wending his way homeward, and bringing with him a young orphan companion, who had risen,