"May I come in, Nellie?" said Jennie, as her cousin answered her gentle rap by half-opening the door and peeping out to see who the intruder was at that late hour. "I have a great deal to say to you," continued she, as Ellen gave her an ungracious permission to enter.

"Well you must hurry and say it, Jennie, for I am uncommonly sleepy, and feel a stronger inclination for my bed at present than for any communications," replied Ellen, throwing herself languidly down, and motioning her cousin to be seated.

"Nellie," said Jennie, placing her small white hand upon the one that hung over the arm of the sofa, "to-morrow we part, and God only knows when and where we may meet again. Be that as it may, to-night we have the opportunity to understand and love each other, another evening's shadows may stand between our hearts if they are not earlier united. You think that I love Henry Moore; will it make you happy to know that he will never be aught to me but a kind and affectionate brother, and that the most sacred place in my heart is reserved for another occupant?"

Quite ashamed and almost like a guilty thing, Ellen sat, while the color rushed over neck and face, mounting even to the brow, and deepening as it rose until it seemed too painful to endure, then rising from her seat, and opening the window upon the balcony she stepped forth into the night air, and kneeling by the balustrade, remained, motionless as a statue until a soft kiss upon her forehead assured her that she was forgiven. The stars looked down with a brighter twinkle, and the autumn wail grew into a sweet harmony as the two reconciled cousins stood with clasped hands gazing upward.