The family had already dined; but, after some delay, a repast was prepared for the travellers; and, before they were ready to depart, the long shadows of the opposite hills brought an early twilight over the little valley. Mr. Grafton looked at his daughter; he could not expose her to a dark ride through the forest; and the pressing invitation of the good old people, that they should stay the night, was accepted. After much pleasant talk with the enthusiastic young student, to which Edith listened with deep interest, Mr. Grafton was tasked to his utmost polemical and theological knowledge by the searching questions of the old Puritan. Like douce Davie Deans, he was stiff in his doctrines, and would not allow a suspicion of wavering from the orthodox standard of faith. But Edith soon gave undeniable evidence that sleep was a much better solacer of fatigue than theological discussions; and, after the evening worship had been scrupulously performed, a bed was prepared for Mr. Grafton on the floor of the room where they sat, for he would not allow the old people to give up theirs to him. Seymore gayly resigned his poor garret to Edith, and slept, as he had often done before, in the hayloft. Slept? no; he lay awake all night thinking how lovely Edith looked in her riding _Joseph_,[1] which fitted closely to her beautiful shape, and a beaver hat tied under the chin, to confine her hair in riding. She was the angel of his dreams. But why did she turn aside when they met? and the poor student sighed. [Footnote 1: We have in vain endeavored to find the etymology of this name. It might first have been of many colors, and named from the coat of the patriarch's favorite son.] Edith looked around the little garret with much interest, and some little awe. There were the favorite books, heaps of manuscripts, and every familiar object that was so closely associated with Seymore. Nothing reveals so much of another's mind and habits, as to go into the apartment where they habitually live. The bed had been neatly made with snowy sheets, and some little order given to the room. Edith opened the books, and read the marked passages; the manuscripts were all open, and with the curiosity of our mother Eve, she read a few lines. She colored to the very temples as she committed this fault; but she found herself irresistibly led on by sympathy with a mind kindred to her own; and when she laid her head on the pillow, tears of admiration and pity filled her eyes. She lay awake, forming plans for the student's advancement; and, before sleep weighed down her eyelids, she had woven a fair romance, of which he was the hero. Ah, that youth could be mistress of the ring and the lamp! then would all the world be prosperous and happy. But wisdom and experience, the true genii, appear in the form of an _aged_ magician, who has forgotten the beatings of that precious thing, the human heart.