The morning sun streamed brightly in through the low, open window, which led out upon a balcony overlooking the park. With a sigh of pleasure Enid seated herself in an inviting arm-chair, and lay back among its cushions, with a smile of happiness upon her sweet lips, wholly forgetful of the book she held in her hand, and which she had intended reading, and wholly unconscious that a pair of fine dark eyes were tenderly regarding her from behind the heavy curtains which draped the balcony window. Neither did she hear a step upon the soft carpet, or realize the presence of any one, until a fragrant waxen capejasmine was suddenly dropped from above into her lap. She started then, and looked quickly up, but flushed the deepest crimson, as she met the earnest gaze of Ralph Ellerton, who was bending over the back of her chair. “Why, good-morning, Mr. Ellerton,” she said, striving to cover her confusion by speaking lightly. “How you surprised me. I thought I was the only one stirring so early this morning.” “Pardon me for startling you, but I have been up since sunrise, ‘Over the hills and far away.’ I have but just come in, and stepped out upon the balcony to enjoy the glorious view.” “It is fine, isn’t it? Poor papa used to enjoy it so much,” she replied, sadly, the tears springing to her eyes; then added, “This was always his favorite resort, and he would sit for hours upon the balcony and gaze upon the scenery around.” She picked up the flower he had thrown into her lap, inhaled its fragrance, and then fastened it upon her bosom. He smiled slightly at the act, and she, suddenly looking up, caught his eye fixed upon her, and again the rich blood suffused her face, but she did not remove the flower. “Enid,” said Ralph, tenderly, “may I interpret that as a good omen? May I tell you of my love after waiting so long?” “There is no need to tell it, Ralph; I knew it long ago,” she replied, in tones as tender, and with an irresistible frankness. “Darling, your tones tell me if your words do not, that you return it, unworthy as I am,” he said, as he passionately clasped her in his arms. “Yes, Ralph, I do; I loved you before I left that horrid cavern, and it almost broke my heart when I thought you the husband of another. But even after I found you were free again, I would not encourage you to speak the words which I knew were on your lips, for I wished to try you first, to prove the good I felt there was in you.” “Bless you for your frankness; but you will perhaps be surprised when I tell you that my heart forgot its allegiance to that other the moment I first beheld you.” “Then why did you persist?” hastily interrupted Enid, raising her radiant face in surprise, then blushing scarlet again as she remembered it must wound him to be thus reminded of the past.