Forth floated the little flower-spirit. There lay upon a couch, round which gathered weeping friends, a form of manly beauty. The ministers of earth lay cold and lifeless—their work was done. The bright beings of Intellect and Adoration rested upon the shadowy pinions of the celestial guardian—while _Love_ floated in the ethereal beams of other worlds reflected from the golden wreaths of light, encircling the snowy brows of a seraph band, upon which the full dark eyes of the dying man were fixed; while far above, beyond the deep blue vaults, there burst forth strains of sublime, entrancing melody—as if the revolving spheres had joined the joyous anthem that echoed round the throne of God—a soul redeemed. “Arthur, are you willing to die, are you happy?” whispered a sobbing voice, while a pearly tear fell upon his brow. “Oh, joy inconceivable! Happiness that mortals ne’er can know! But see’st thou that bright seraph? It is Amy—her arms stretched forth to meet me. And my mother—she is pouring blessings on thy head! Ellen, sister—friends farewell—we meet again.” And as they grasped his icy hands, the spirit freed, was borne upon the rapturous wings of the awaiting angels to the realms of bliss. * * * * * “Dear Ellen,” said Lucy, as they were seated together one pleasant morn, “why did you refuse the hand of Dr. Warner? I am sure he is talented, pious, and every thing one’s heart could wish. Then, you know, he loves you for your own worth, and not your wealth, for he has enough of that already.” “What makes you suppose that I have refused him, coz?” said Ellen, a bright blush suffusing her cheek. “Simply, appearances. As you say _such_ secrets should not be revealed, I do not expect to get much information from yourself,” was Lucy’s reply. “But, in the first place, there used to be a peculiar looking bouquet sent here every morning for Miss Lincoln—then papa’s consent was asked! And lastly, he is among the missing, bouquets and all.” “Really, Lucy!” said Ellen laughing, “you form very rapid conclusions.” “But not always unjust ones,” she persisted. “Well then, Lucy, if you will have it so, suppose I did refuse the hand of Dr. Warner; it was simply, that I neither wish nor intend to marry.” “Do not intend to marry, cousin!” said Lucy, laying down her work. “Why, coz!” said Ellen smiling, “you seem surprised.” “Cousin Ellen,” continued Lucy, in a more serious tone, “I wish to ask you another question—will you answer me candidly?” “Certainly,” said Ellen, “if it be in my power.” “Then Ellen, did you love the beautiful penitent?” “Arthur! Lucy. What could have induced you to ask such a question?” “I have two reasons. The one, because the world says so. The other, because I was half in love with him myself, before he became so etherial.” “The world says so,” responded Ellen.