upon his heart. So he continued to nourish in his soul a vague hope, menaced by a vague fear that sorely tried his courage and his faith. Meanwhile the fratricidal strife between the kindred nations came to an end--never, let us hope, while the world stands, to be renewed. The Treaty of Paris brought repose to the two war-wearied people. The Angel of Peace waved her branch of olive over the ravaged fields and desolated homes, and the kindly hand of Nature veiled with her gentle ministries the devastations of war. One evening, in the leafy month of June, shortly after the tidings of the peace had arrived, Neville Trueman was walking with Miss Drayton on the banks of the noble river where, three years before, he had gazed upon the summer sunset and sung the song of Jerusalem the Golden. They had been on a visit of charity to a sick member of Neville's flock, and were now returning through the after-glow of a golden sunset. The breath of the peach and apple blossoms filled the air with fragrance, and their pink and white bloom clothed the orchard trees with beauty. Swift swallows clove with their scythe-like wings the sky, and skimmed the surface of the dimpling wave, and the whip-poor-will's plaint of tender melancholy was borne faintly on the breeze. At a point of vantage commanding a broad view of the river, which, wimpling and dimpling in its beauty, flowed, a sapphire set in emerald, between its verdurous banks, Kate stood to gaze upon the lovely scene--fair as the storied Bay of Naples or the far-famed Riviera of Genoa. "It was here," she said, as she gazed wistfully at the setting sun, "that I had my last conversation with Captain Villiers, and an eventful conversation it was," and a tear glistened in her eyes as she remembered his parting words. Neville listened in an embarrassed manner. He thought that she referred to a declaration of his passion, so knowing not what reply to make he kept silent. "I believe," continued Kate, "that that conversation had a very important influence, under God, on his destiny." "His life," said Neville, "was unfortunately too short for him to enjoy his happiness." "True," replied Kate; "but all the sooner he reached its consummation." "How do you mean? I do not understand," said Neville, in a bewildered manner. "You would have been married had he lived." "Married! Who spoke of marriage?" exclaimed Kate, flushing rosy red over brow and cheek, as she turned with an air and tone of surprise to her companion. "Pardon me, I thought you were engaged," said Neville. "I have grounds to know that he cherished a deep devotion for you." "He never declared it, then," replied Kate; "and I am glad he did not. I had a great esteem and respect for Captain Villiers, but I could not have given him my hand." "Could not!" exclaimed Neville, in a dazed sort of manner. "Then I have been under a great mistake," and he walked on for a few minutes in silence.