Miss ---- was not at liberty to tell, and with a secret suspicion of Aunt Martha, who had seemed much interested in her welfare, Mary returned to her room to read the other letter, which was still unopened. It was some time since Billy had written to her alone, and with more than her usual curiosity, she broke the seal; but her head grew dizzy, and her spirits faint, as she read the passionate outpouring of a heart which had cherished her image for years, and which, though fearful of rejection, would still tell her how much she was beloved. "It is no sudden fancy," said he, "but was conceived years ago, on that dreary afternoon, when in your little room at the poor-house, you laid your head in my lap and wept, as you told me how lonely you were. Do you remember it, Mary? I do; and never now does your image come before me, but I think of you as you were then, when the wild wish that you should one day be mine first entered my heart. Morning, noon, and night have I thought of you, and no plan for the future have I ever formed which had not a direct reference to you. Once, Mary, I believed my affection for you returned, but now you are changed greatly changed. Your letters are brief and cold, and when I look around for the cause, I am led to fear that I was deceived in thinking you ever loved me, as I thought you did. If I am mistaken, tell me so; but if I am not, if you can never be my wife, I will school myself to think of you as a brother would think of an only and darling sister." This letter produced a strange effect upon Mary. She thought how much she was indebted to one who had stood so faithfully by her when all the world was dark and dreary. She thought, too, of his kindness to the dead, and that appealed more strongly to her sympathy than aught else he had ever done for her. There was no one to advise her, and acting upon the impulse of the moment, she sat down and commenced a letter, the nature of which she did not understand herself, and which if sent, would have given a different coloring to the whole of her after life. She had written but one page, when the study bell rang, and she was obliged to put her letter by till the morrow. For several days she had not been well, and the excitement produced by Billy's letter tended to increase her illness, so that on the following morning when she attempted to rise, she found herself seriously ill. During the hours in which she was alone that day, she had ample time for reflection, and before night she wrote another letter to Billy, in which she told him how impossible it was for her to be the wife of one whom she had always loved as an own, and dear brother. This letter caused Mary so much effort, and so many bitter tears, that for several days she continued worse, and at last gave up all hope of being present at the examination.