the living, and he was Arthur Govenloch. Since boyhood he had been in a foreign country, but he had never gone from the affections of Elizabeth Woodville. It was May day, towards sunset, as she took her seat on the terrace. She was engaged in working a piece of embroidery,--a history of the family, and of her childhood; and the last rays fell sweetly upon the names of those she loved. An unusual buoyancy had been imparted to her spirits, and she leaned over to view the sports of children, as crowned with the first flowers of summer, they gaily and enthusiastically tripped about the door. They all departed, save one beautiful boy, who sat down beside an old statue, on the grass plot, and by turns, for very happiness, sung, clapped his hands, and shouted. He started as he heard footsteps near, and seeing Elizabeth, ran up the outer flight of stairs, leading to the terrace. She came down to meet him, when a stranger appeared. He suddenly halted, and became deadly pale. He turned round, for a moment, to conceal his agitation, when he heard a half-suppressed shriek. “Arthur Govenloch!” Although many, many years had elapsed, and foreign climes had embrowned his features, Elizabeth recognized him. She had loved the boy, and when he was absent her imagination had pictured the man, and there stood the living resemblance, unchanged. On hearing his own name pronounced, he rushed forward. There was a beautiful lady in mourning. Could it be his own Elizabeth? There was the same slight figure, which he had so often clasped, as a boyish dream, and the deep light of her soft blue eyes, which he had so often braved for hours, when lying on the grass, and could he forget it? “My own Elizabeth!” he exclaimed, “in mourning? But hast thou been faithful and true, as I have been? There, there, that boy again.--A shudder passed over me, as I first beheld him here. Art thou the wife of another? That boy,”-- “Arthur, I know him not, he is the child of a neighbour. Oh! hast thou come at last! Arthur, I am alone. My brother is--” “Hush, dearest, _now_ thou art not alone. But let us enter the house, where I have been so happy, and tell me all.”