Signs of life were again visible about the great house in the avenue. The blinds were thrown open, and the rich drapery hung gracefully by the open windows. Grocers' and butchers' boys were hurrying in through the gates to empty their heavy baskets, while little beggar-children emerged from them with theirs richly laden. The passers-by looked gladly up, rejoicing that the long-deserted mansion was once more occupied. The walks were neatly swept, the lawns well trimmed, and the shrubs carefully trained. A little fountain leaped joyously in one of the grass-plots, pet canaries warbled from their cages among the green vines, and every thing around the place betokened the approaching return of its refined and tasteful mistress. The expectant servants ran hither and thither from window to door, and from door to window, thrusting out their woolly heads at every sound of carriage-wheels. Never lagged the time so wearily, and never was house more joyous than that, as the waning day brought the loved ones beneath its roof.

Mrs. Dunmore lay upon the couch in her pleasant boudoir, weary and travel-worn, yet not insensible to the delight of being once more at home. By her side, on a low ottoman, was the child of her adoption, her hand clasping that of her mother, whose eyes were fixed upon her with tenderness and love. Both hearts were almost too full for utterance; the mother seemed content to watch the varying emotions as they played upon the face of her sweet child, and the young girl betrayed her earnest, affectionate feelings in frequent but silent caresses. It was such a mercy to be spared so many years to meet again, and to find each other all that they desired—the one the same kind, devoted, Christian mother, and the other as warm-hearted as ever, repaying all the care and regard lavished upon her by a corresponding improvement, and by an unmeasured gratitude and esteem. It was such a happiness, too, to Mrs. Dunmore to feel that, in braving the world's opinion and taking to her bosom an outcast and deserted one, she was so fully compensated by the companionship of the graceful and beautiful girl who was now competent to sympathize in all that pleased or disturbed her. What was all her wealth, what were the elegances and luxuries that surrounded her, what the fashionable friends who crowded to welcome her, compared to that one fresh, trusting, loving heart, that clung to hers with such strength and ardor of affection!

Many a time during their long separation had her spirit gone yearningly out toward the child, and now she was beside her again with deep eyes beaming earnestly upon her, and red lips pressed ever and anon to her own with an overflowing fondness.

The twilight was in the room, and through its dimness the little portrait on the wall was visible, no longer shrouded in somber weeds, but in its brightness and simplicity gazing down upon the two loving ones beneath it, and seeming to share in their deep and hallowed joy.

The young girl bowed her head until it rested softly upon the bosom of her mother, as she said, "It is so sweet to be here, dear mamma! Often have I walked past this desolate house, with the feeling that it might never again open to receive me, and it seems so like a dream that I am here once more, with the cold world wholly shut out from me, and your warm, warm heart beating so close to mine again!"

"Has the world indeed been cold to you, my darling," said Mrs. Dunmore, "and have you found no kind friends to make my absence less weary? I had hoped that Madame La Blanche would prove a fond and faithful mother."

"And so she has, dear mamma, but thoughts of the past would sometimes come up to trouble me, and then I needed you to help me bear it, and to bring sunshine and peace from it all. This was at first when I felt quite alone in the world, after you had gone; but I tried afterward to do as Madame La Blanche said was the better way—to put every thing bitter from me, and try to think only of the good that was all around me. When we were gloomy or dispirited, she would say, 'I know it is very trying, my children, to be separated from your parents and friends; but you must remember that so long as you are with me, I stand in the same relationship to you all; and that my heart will be cast down and pained if you fail to come freely to me with all your little burdens and sorrows.' She said too, that 'we were as one dear and pleasant family, and that each of us must strive to bring as much brightness as possible into our little household, and then we could not help being happy.' Nobody could be kinder nor better than Madame La Blanche, and Rosalie and Carrie were as sweet sisters to me; but there were some things I could never speak to them about, and I am so glad that you who know me so truly are here again! I shall have nothing now to ask excepting that you go away from your poor child no more."

"Never fear, my darling," said Mrs. Dunmore, "nothing shall again come between us so long as God permits us to dwell upon the earth; but we must not forget to prepare for a severance that must one day come, so that we may be reunited where all partings shall forever be over."

Jennie clasped still tighter the hand of her mother, as she thought how severely that long separation would try one or the other of them; but she said nothing, for her heart was busy with the memory of the loved ones who had gone before her to the home above, and she felt that she had indeed many incentives to struggle for the same blessed inheritance.

The twilight went out into thick darkness, leaving the mother and child to their happy communings in the boudoir, amid the blest associations of a cherished past.

The hum of the streets was hushed. Few sounds came from without; but the silence that had so long reigned in the mansion, was broken by the gentle tones of loving and glad voices.