Daybreak! The gray of morning was in the sky even then. Instantly there was a bustle of preparation in that little bedroom. Myra’s garments, that had been drying by the fire, were hastily crowded into the trunk; a fathom or two was cut from the bed-cord, that her ill-secured luggage might have the best protection their means afforded, and at the appointed time all was ready for Myra’s departure. Amid tears and affectionate embraces Myra parted with her young friends, and before the deep blue of night had fairly left the sky, she was on her route to New Castle. The stage had no passengers except Myra and her kind attendant, so in the stillness of the morning she had nothing to distract her thoughts from the mournful channel into which they naturally turned. The storm had swept over the earth, leaving only freshness and beauty behind. The trees that bent over the road were vivid with moisture, over which the rising sun fell with sparkling and genial warmth. Every spire of grass bent as if with the weight of a diamond at its point. The vines and creeping shrubs that grew along the fences seemed blossoming with gems, so thick were the water-drops among their leaves; so bright were the sunbeams that kindled them into beauty. The atmosphere was full of cool, rich fragrance, and every gush of air, as it swept through the ponderous vehicle that bore Myra from her home, was delicious to breathe. Ever and anon, as the stage followed the windings of the highway, Myra could obtain a view of her former home; silent, stately, and refreshed, as it were, by the night storm, it rose before her tearful eyes. The proud old mansion, lifted on a terrace of hills above the level on which she traveled, could be seen for miles and miles around, and thus at every turn the noble features of all that she had given up were spread out before her gaze as if to mock her loneliness, or with their grandeur tempt her return. But Myra scarcely thought of the stately old mansion. Her affectionate heart penetrated beyond its walls; she saw, as in a vision, one pale and gentle head asleep on its pillow, dreaming of scenes that would never be again. It was a memory of the slumbering household abandoned in its unconsciousness, that filled the eyes of poor Myra with tears. She felt no regret for the noble property that she had rendered up without a sigh. But the household links that she had broken still quivered about her heart, and Myra, as she cast her eyes back on her stately old home, could not choose but weep.