Annie was so beautiful that it was a delight to look at her lovely face, listen to her musical voice, and watch her graceful motions. She fully appreciated her own charms, and had a way of making others appreciate them also. She had many more friends than Miriam, for who could resist the charm of her face and manner? She had become quite accomplished, for she possessed a good deal of talent, but was worldly minded, vain, and selfish. It may be matter of surprise that such a girl should have been my intimate friend, and still stranger that she should have been the friend of Miriam; but she was lively and agreeable, and when we were children together we did not care to analyze her character, and when we knew her thoroughly we still loved her--from habit, I suppose. At all events, whatever were the sympathies which bound us together, we continued firm friends until we were eighteen, when we left Madame Orleans' school, where we had resided for four years. At that time Annie returned to our native village, while Miriam and I went to a Southern city, intending to spend the winter with her uncle's family; but we liked our new home so much that we prolonged our visit two years. After we had been there a few months, by some chance, which I have now forgotten, Henry Ackermann came to the city where we resided. He was a few years older than we, but had been one of our playmates in childhood. His parents had removed from our native village, and gone to California some years before, when the gold fever was at its height, since which time we had heard little about them, and Henry had nearly faded out of our recollections, until now he suddenly appeared, destined to be the controlling fate in the life of one of us, for Miriam and he soon grew to love one another; though what affinity there was between their natures I never could imagine. But he told me that he loved her, and she told me that she was very happy, and I was bound to believe them both, and thought that on the whole they would be a better-matched couple than most of those I saw about me. It is needless to say much of their courtship. Their engagement was not made public, therefore it was not necessary to make a parade of their affection before indifferent acquaintance, Miriam's love, like that of all proud, reserved natures, was intense. Ackermann's attentions to her were graceful and delicate, and he ever manifested toward her in his whole manner that silent devotion, unobtrusive and indescribable, which is so gratifying to woman. It was evident that he understood her thoroughly: whether he appreciated her as thoroughly was another matter, about which I had my doubts.