"If you mean that I am to be married, that is a report which truth does not require me to contradict," said the young lady, in a tone adapted to repress the familiar manner of her companion. He had just returned from a long absence in a foreign land. His early youth had been passed in his uncle's family. He left his cousin a beautiful girl. He found her on his return a still more beautiful woman. "I am very anxious," said he, with a slight change of manner, "to see the man who has drawn so splendid a prize. Is he like the picture you drew of the man you would marry, as we sat by the willow brook from the rising of the moon to its meridian? You remember that most beautiful night?" "It is not desirable to remember all the follies of childhood," said Emily, coldly. Mason was silent. It was plain that they were no longer what they had been, brother and sister. After walking for some distance in silence, Emily remarked, in a tone inviting conversation, "You must have seen a great deal of the world." "I have had some means of observation," he replied, "but I have seen nothing to wean me from this spot, and from my friends here." "Your friends are obliged to you for the compliment." "I did not intend the remark as a compliment." Again there was an interval of silence. "I have been absent four years," said Mason, as though speaking to himself, "and I am not conscious of any change, so far as my feelings are concerned. The same persons and things which I then loved, I love now. The same views of life which I then cherished I cherish now." "Experience and knowledge of the world," said Emily, "ought to give wisdom." "I am so perverse as to regard it as wisdom to hold on to the dreams of our early days." "Our views ought, it seems to me, to change as we grow older." "I am not sure that we ought to grow old, so far as our feelings are concerned." "You would engage in the vain effort to retain the dews and freshness of morning, after the sun has arisen with a burning heat." "I believe the dew of our youth may be preserved even until old age." "I am surprised that acquaintance with the world has not corrected your views of life. One would think that you had lived in entire seclusion." "I am surprised that the romantic, warm-hearted Emily Earl should become the worldly-wise lecturer of her cousin." "We had better speak upon some other subject. Had you a pleasant voyage homeward?" "Yes. It could not be otherwise, when my face was toward 'my own, my native land,' and the friends so fresh in my remembrance." A slight shade of displeasure flitted across Emily's features. She made no remark. "Where is Susan Grey?" said Mason. "She is dead." "Indeed! She was just my own age. She was a single-hearted girl." "She often inquired for you. You never fancied yourself in love with her?" "No. Why that question?" "She was under the impression that we were engaged, and seemed quite relieved when I informed her that she was mistaken."