In a few moments she saw Crayford leave the house. Could she have read the thoughts then passing through his mind, she would have found full confirmation of her worst fears. She now determined upon a bold step, and with trembling hand addressed a note to her mysterious counsellor: “If you are really my friend, why do you thus shun me; why, if honest, thus clothe yourself in so much mystery? What proof have you to give me of your sincerity? Alas! I fear, none; and yet I would not have it so, for the thought of your friendship has been very pleasant to me! What reliance can I place upon the assertions of one who thus shuns inquiry, against the character of a person bearing the semblance of so much worth as Crayford? I have a right to demand proofs of what you have stated; and I now do so, which, if you withhold, I shall deem all your accusations against that individual as base forgeries. God judge the right!” This note she sealed, and ordering the servants to inform her when the usual messenger from the unknown should again appear, she sat down to reflect upon the singular position in which she found herself placed. It was not until the following morning that Florence had an opportunity to forward her note. From her window she at length saw the lad coming down the street with a basket of beautiful roses. She immediately ran down, and as he rang the bell she opened the door quickly, and placing the note in his hand, bade him deliver it to his master. The next moment, how gladly she would have recalled him, so imprudent appeared to her the course she was pursuing. It was too late, however—and in a state of much agitation she now awaited the result. She had not to wait long. In the course of an hour she received an answer couched as follows: “You demand proof, and you shall have it. Thank God that you are sufficiently alarmed to ask it. Go, then, to No. 7 —— Lane, and inquire for a Mrs. Belmont. Be not dismayed at what is before you—shrink not from a step which may save you from wretchedness. Go, then, pure and lovely one, and fear not. One will be near you who will protect you with his life.” [_Conclusion in our next_ * * * * * ALICE. BY THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH. As in yonder woods I wandered, By the river-side, On the bitter past I pondered, On the gladness I had squandered, And upon my erring bride, By her dying sanctified. Pleasure from a crystal chalice Once I gladly drained; Lived we in a fairy palace, Wildest passion, I and Alice; Every object seemed attained, Every joy my soul had gained. While I trusted her, and thought her Honest as she seemed; While I fondest worship brought her, And my glowing glances taught her Of the love which from them gleamed, I awoke—I had but dreamed.