Thus glided away the last tranquil season of my life. As was one day, so was the next. Mrs. Harlowe's clock-work virtues, which never run down, the doctor's agreeable carelessness and imperturbable good-humor, the exceeding kindness of Mr. Regulus, who grew so gentle, that he almost seemed melancholy,--all continued the same. In reading, writing, thinking, feeling, hoping, reaching forward to an uncertain future, the season of fireside enjoyments and comforts passed,--spring,--summer. Mrs. Linwood and Edith returned, and I was once more installed in that charming apartment, amid whose rosy decorations "I seemed," as Edith said, "a fairy queen." I walked once more in the moon-lighted colonnade, in the shadow of the granite walls, and felt that I was born to be there. One evening as I returned home, I saw Edith coming through the lawn to meet me, so rapidly that she seemed borne on wings,--her white drapery fell in such full folds over her crutches it entirely concealed them, and they made no sound on the soft, thick grass. Her face was perfectly radiant. "Oh, Gabriella," she exclaimed, "he is coming,--brother is coming home,--he will be here in less than a week,--oh! I am so happy!" And the sweet, affectionate creature leaned her head on my shoulder, and actually sobbed in the fulness of her joy. My own heart palpitated with strange emotions, with mingled curiosity, eagerness, and dread. "Dear Edith," I cried, putting my arms around her, and kissing her fair, infantine cheek, "I rejoice with you,--I could envy you if I dared. What a blessing it must be to have a brother capable of inspiring so much love!" "He shall be your brother too, Gabriella! For, are you not my sister? and of course he must be your brother. Come, let us sit down under the dear old elm and talk about him, for my heart is so full that I can speak and think of nothing else."