Much of the time of this sickness her mind had wandered sadly; and he who watched incessantly beside the girl, the adoring old man, had become cognizant of a secret which he was not too proud to use. And so, one evening, just at twilight, he stood with another—not the nurse, nor the physician—in the sick chamber. Kitty had seemed sinking all the day, and at nightfall the doctor had left her for a moment, almost at his (professional) wit’s end. Then it was that Mr. Clover also had gone forth, and when he came again, Eugene Lind was with him. She was sleeping when they entered, and both of those strong men trembled when they stood together, looking silently upon her wasted, pallid face. Eugene sat down beside her, and when she awakened, reader, the father went softly from the room. * * * * * Hush! I cannot tell you of that awaking from death to life—from the assumed indifference which had nearly chilled a young heart out of existence, to the life of love. No! and I _will_ not tell it; but don’t you say it is because I am tired of talking that I pause, or that I feel inefficient to tell it all. It is not true. * * * * * But, still later in the season, when the brown leaves were falling in every direction from the trees, when the clouds gathered often in the sky, and the frequent rains presaged cold winter storms, there stood, one of those intensely bright days yet vouchsafed October, a little lady, frail and young, leaning on the arm of a gentleman, in the beech grove, near Woodland Cottage. Cheerily fell the sunlight through the almost leafless branches, and numberless insects flitted to and fro—one of these, a tiny thing, alighted on the maiden’s hand, _not_ the one clasped in _his_! They had paused in their walk to rest, and neither had for many moments spoken; but as they began, as by mutual consent, to retrace their steps, the gentleman looked up into the blue sky, exclaiming fervently, “How _beautiful_ it is to-day!” and with a heart full of thankfulness, he murmured fondly a name—a name with which the reader is familiar. Then he looked upon _her_, and he seemed to find all of heaven reflected in her eyes—and more beautiful than the sky or the sunshine seemed she to him; he bent his stately form, he kissed her; and, reader, her arms wound round him in a moment, she returned his embracing. It was a marriage-covenant—nothing more or less! Ha! then the insect flitted away, far, far up above the happy mortals, with a cry heard never before, and the grove became vocal with it; how crimson grew the girl’s pale face, as she heard that strange, bold voice, proclaiming to the winds, “_Katy did!_” * * * * * Over the ocean flew a message—thus it run: