That night, when in the solitude of his own room, he took from his neck the ribbon attached to a locket, and, unclasping it, gazed upon the placid face so skilfully portrayed there, why did another pair of eyes dance before his vision? Not calm, cold orbs, like those in the picture, but eyes soul-lit, with life and love shining in their depths. Why, when gazing on those thin, well-formed lips, upon which the smile seemed stereotyped, did memory flash upon him a mouth he had lately looked upon, lips full and sweet, and quivering with repressed emotion? Why, from gazing at the features, did he proceed to a dissection of character, and for the first time acknowledge that a woman who could lead a man on to make proposals of marriage, with the intention of wounding him through his affections, was unworthy of his regard? Why did he, instead of placing the relic of past joys under his pillow, as heretofore, lock it in a desk out of sight, and resolve to let by-gones be by-gones? Had Sybil known all that was transpiring on the other side of the partition within a few feet of her own pillow, she would have roused herself from her heavy slumber to thank God that his delusion was over at last. Or had she heard his nightly prayer wherein he thanked his heavenly Father for the sweet interview which the day had afforded, and even guessed to whom he referred, she would have hoped much for his future. As it was, she slept on quietly and profoundly, while he lay for hours communing with his own heart. "Helen," said Frank one morning at breakfast, "don't make any engagement for to-morrow, for I prophesy you will have company." The young lady glanced archly in his face, as she said: "I can guess who. It will be a Miss about my age; and she will not come alone." "You are mistaken for once," he added in some confusion. "I am quite confident you cannot guess the name of the person." "I will write it down and put it in a sealed envelope, and we shall see whether I cannot." Still the same roguish curl to the lips. "Come out to the arbor, and I will tell you a secret." She smiled gayly and followed him. "Do you remember a promise you once wished me to make?" "I remember a great many." "Pshaw, don't be silly! One about my being married." "No, I recollect nothing of that kind, I wished you to remain single, that we may each live in happy freedom from care." "Do you still wish it, Helen?" "If you could persuade Sybil Knowles to be my sister, perhaps I might consent." "Nonsense, Sis. Sybil is old enough to be my mother. There is a way, though, that you could gain her in that relation, Frederic might." "Hush Frank, what has all this to do with my company?" "Helen, I am going to give you a sister. While you were so unhappy, I wouldn't tell you. But now that your heart is so gay, that songs flow from your lips as naturally as from the robins, I have ventured to ask her to Woodbine Cottage."