“In conclusion, I would say to you that I have to-day received a letter from a distant relative, who lives at the South, urgently pressing me to come and reside with her till the friends of my early youth return from abroad. She writes to me in a spirit of genial, heart-breathed kindness, very welcome to my thirsting soul—and her letter is different, indeed, from the precisely-worded epistle in which my aunt invited me to become a member of _her_ household. It rests with you, Florence, to tell me whether I shall go or stay. My present abode has never been a congenial one; but _your_ friendship would cast a heart-glow around it, and render me perfectly content to remain where I am.
“I await with impatience your answer. If it should prove that I have had but a pleasant vision, too bright and sweet ever to be realized, be at least frank with me, Florence, as I have been with you.
Florence Hastings closed that precious letter, upon which, as she read, her tears had fallen thick and fast. To her it was the first of those moments in life
“When such sensations in the soul assemble As make it pleasure to the eyes to weep.”
And with scarce an instant’s delay, she traced the following reply.
“Do not leave me, Ida. Heaven bless you for your generous avowal—for your sweet offer of affection! Oh! if you could but imagine how intensely happy it has made me! I have always loved _you_, though I scarcely dared confess it even to myself, for I never dreamed that I could be an object of interest to any one. My life has hitherto been _so_ sad, and dark, and desolate; and my proud efforts to conceal from view the yearning for sympathy and appreciation that possessed my soul, have given me an apathy of manner which could not but prove repelling to those with whom chance brought me in contact. _You_ alone have read me aright—you alone know that I am not what I seem; that discipline and not nature, is shadowed forth in my outward demeanor.
“Come, then, to me, darling, and let me reveal myself to you _more_ fully. Let me fold you to my bosom, and then, while I confess how precious to my soul is the promise of your true and earnest friendship, you will forget that to _you_ at least I have ever seemed