That name! How it jarred through the chords of Amy's heart! Only a few moments ago she had determined on tearing it out, and never allowing another thought of him to enter there again. Was he dear to her still; now that she was the affianced bride of another? and that other, ought he not to know of her foolishness and folly? ought not every thought of her heart to be open to _him_ now? Yes, now; from this time, this hour; but not the past; that could only bring sorrow to him, shame to her. No! no! She could not lower herself in the eyes of Robert Vavasour, he who loved her so dearly, and whom she had just promised to try in time to love with all her heart. All her heart! Was this trembling at the mere mention of another's name the beginning of her promise? Would she ever forget Charles Linchmore? Ever love another as she could have loved him? Amy shivered slightly; but Robert Vavasour, who loved her more than his life, felt it. "You are cold, little one," he said, "and must go in. You know, Amy, I have the right to protect you from all ill now," and he led her back gently towards the cottage. CHAPTER III. LISTENING AT THE DOOR. If thou hast crushed a flower, The root may not be blighted; If thou hast quenched a lamp, Once more it may be lighted; But on thy harp or on thy lute, The string which thou hast broken Shall never in sweet sound again Give to thy touch a token! If thou hast bruised a vine, The summer's breath is healing, And its clusters yet may glow Thro' the leaves, their bloom revealing; But if thou hast a cup o'erthrown With a bright draught filled--oh! never Shall earth give back the lavished wealth To cool thy parched lips' fever. Thy heart is like that cup, If thou waste the love it bore thee; And like that jewel gone, Which the deep will not restore thee; And like that string of heart or lute Whence the sweet sound is scattered,-- Gently, oh! gently touch the chords, So soon for ever shattered! MRS. HEMANS. Anne had scarcely exaggerated when she told Amy that Brampton Park had become dull and stupid. It certainly had subsided into its old dullness, while the days themselves were even more dreary-looking than the house. Spring had commenced, the trees were beginning to put forth their blossoms, and the cold frosty weather had passed away; still the days were misty, and sometimes even foggy, with drizzling rain. Riding parties were scarcely ever attempted, and a walk was almost out of the question; while dancing and music were things unknown--the first impracticable, the latter no one seemed to have the spirits for. Mrs. Hopkins no longer walked about the corridors in stately importance; even Mason's crinoline seemed to have shrunk somewhat, as she flaunted less saucily about than when certain of meeting some one to whom to show off her last new cap.