"Is it possible? What happiness!" breathed Millicent, with tears in her eyes. "I cannot believe it. I cannot believe that I shall again see my dear sister, whom I have so long supposed dead. How did you know she was alive; and why have you not told me this before?" "Because I wished to surprise you just before our departure. You will not deprive me of that last pleasure, would you?" asked the captain in a low voice, smiling faintly. "I made all possible inquiry when in Boston, and, just as about to depart with the troops, received accurate news of her whereabouts." "I see; and so she is safe, and we shall meet before many days. Where is she, please?" asked Millicent, smiling divinely upon Merwin. Drinking in the sweetness of the smile the captain gave her an account of her sister's fortune, and of her surroundings. "The Stantons, with whom she is, are friends of mine," he observed, rather gloomily. "Ah, indeed; then it will be a pleasant meeting all around!" and she clapped her hands with joy. Then, noticing the captain's gravity, she said, "Why are you so sad, Captain Merwin?" "Oh, I don't know. I did not mean to be," and he tried to smile. "Yes, I think I do appear rather glum,--don't mind the word, it is so expressive of my feelings. You see, this last week has been so pleasant, we have become such good friends, and learned to know each other's tastes so well, and I have enjoyed so intensely giving you your freedom and sharing it with you, that the thought that it must all end, that I must take you back to interests which I can know nothing of and have no share in, is just a little hard to bear at present. You will think me selfish; forgive me, I did not mean to mention it, but you asked me." She held out her hand to him and said, "You are my trusted friend, and will be my sister's when she knows what you have done for me; so do not say you will have no share in our interests." "You are very kind," he replied, pressing her hand tightly in his, then dropping it suddenly. "Captain Merwin," said Millicent, in turn looking grave, "the past year I have lived in an atmosphere of treachery and revenge; the minds of those with whom I have been associated were filled with anything but Christian thoughts. Unkindness and ill-feeling have found a fertile soil upon which to thrive in their hearts; but deep in my own I ever kept a spot green, where the plant of gratitude could again grow should the occasion offer. It did offer. The seeds were sown by a kind and generous hand; the plant grew quickly, and to-day it blossomed in full. Deeply grateful for what you have done for me, I beg you to accept its flowers." And, with tears in her eyes, she held toward him a small exquisitely selected bunch of fragrant white azalias.