Smiles faded from the cheek of Linda, and her voice now seldom sent its glad notes to cheer the heart of Apollos. He saw she was pale, and that her step was listless. He felt she was unhappy, and now, in addition to his own grief, he bore about with him the pain of knowing that she, too, had sorrows which he could not heal. He would have had her so happy. Around her path only thornless roses should have clustered, and how gladly would he have shielded her from all the storms of life. Ah, poor Apollos! if it could have been; if, like the great branches of the oak which shelter the timid daisy from sun and rain, those great arms of thine would have enfolded this little flower—then, indeed, would thy big soul have leaped with gladness. * * * * * Months passed on. Paul worked at his desk patiently, and hoping that by some favor of fortune he might yet claim the hand of Linda. About this time the proprietor of the establishment in which he was employed, desirous of making a change in his business, offered to sell out at a price very advantageous for the purchaser. Paul would gladly have availed himself of this opportunity, but his means were insufficient, and he knew of no person of whom he could solicit the required sum. While the sale was pending Paul again visited the village, not with any idea of a second time subjecting himself to the rudeness of Mr. Howell by a further request for the hand of his daughter. He went, therefore, as on ardent lover may be supposed to go, impelled by a desire of seeing again the object of his affection, and of hearing from her dear lips a renewed assurance of her truth.