which is this afternoon arranged with far more care than usual; not for any particular reason, but because she had a fancy that it should be so. They were going to visit Grassy Spring, a handsome country seat, whose grounds lay contiguous to those of Collingwood, and whose walls were in winter plainly discernible from the windows of the upper rooms. It had recently been purchased and fitted up somewhat after the style of Collingwood, and its owner was expected to take possession in a few days. Edith's heart always beat faster when she heard his name, for Arthur St. Claire was one of the links of the past which still lingered in the remembrance. She had never seen him since they parted in Albany, and after his leaving college she lost sight of him entirely. Latterly, however, she had heard from Grace, who knew but little more of him than herself, that he was coming into their very neighborhood; that at he had purchased Grassy Spring, and was to keep a kind of bachelor's hall inasmuch as he had no wife, nor yet a prospect of any. So much Edith knew and no more. She did not dare to speak of NINA, for remembering her solemn promise, she had never breathed that name to any living being. But the picture in the glass, as she ever termed it, was not forgotten, and the deep interest she felt in Grassy Spring was owing, in a great measure, to the fact that Nina was in her mind intimately associated with the place. Sooner or later she should meet her there, she was sure; should see those golden curls again, and look into those soft blue eyes, whose peculiar expression she remembered as if it were but yesterday since they first met her view. "It is strange your cousin never married; he must, by this time, be nearly twenty-seven," she said to Grace, thinking the while of Nina, and carelessly adjusting the jaunty hat upon her head. "I think so too," returned Grace. "When quite young he was very fond of the ladies, but I am told that he now utterly ignores female society. Indeed, in his last letter to me, he states distinctly that he wishes for no company except occasional calls in a friendly way." "Been disappointed, probably," suggested Edith, still thinking of Nina, and wondering if Arthur did love her so very much as to put faith in no one because of her treachery. "It may be," said Grace; "and if so, isn't it a little queer that he and Mr. Harrington should live so near each other; both so eccentric; both so handsome and rich; both been disappointed; and both so desirable as husbands?" "Disappointed, Mrs. Atherton! Has Mr. Harrington been disappointed?" and the rich bloom on Edith's cheek deepened to a scarlet hue, which Grace did not fail to notice.