He it is, who by hard labor, and close application, has borne off the highest prize, who has taken the first place in all his classes, and now stands before an anxiously waiting audience, with the first honor of the day, to deliver the valedictory! It is delivered in the German language, and as his voice rises clear and deep, floating over that vast assembly, and filling every niche and corner of that grand edifice, not a movement is made; not a whisper heard; scarcely a breath drawn; and as the young orator gradually loses himself in his theme, and mounts higher and higher, carrying every listener with him, it seems almost as if the hush of death was on the air, or as if every living, breathing form of a few moments before, had turned to sculptured marble! Oh, what a tribute is such breathless silence to eloquence! Who can ask for more? Who would wish for more? For an hour the thrall was upon them, and when our hero resumed his seat, shout after shout rose up from the throats of the multitude, and rent the air with their bursts of approbation and praise. Handkerchiefs were waved, and hands were clapped, while a few of the more aristocratic of the crowd threw bouquets of choice and fragrant hothouse flowers at his feet. Once he stooped to raise one; and then arose and bowed gracefully in acknowledgment of the tribute. The bouquet that he raised was the loveliest cluster of flowers one ever saw; formed of pure waxen tuberoses and heath. In vain he looked around to see whence the offering came. No one answered his look of inquiry; only his eyes fell upon the flushed and lovely face of a young girl, who was sitting quietly smiling to herself, while her downcast orbs and heightened color, and the tears sparkling upon her long, heavy lashes, told that her very soul had been moved by the glowing eloquence of the young orator. Why did Robert Ellerton’s heart leap so suddenly and fiercely within his bosom as his gaze rested upon the fair girl? He bent eagerly forward for a better view of her lovely features. They seemed strangely familiar—strangely like the face of one who had long been cherished and enshrined within the holy of holies of his heart, and he felt almost sure that the elegant floral offering had come from her dainty hand. He cast his eyes again upon the flowers, and started as he saw, coiled between the pure leaves, a little perfumed note. He quivered in every nerve as he drew it quickly from its hiding-place, and unfolded it. A cry almost burst from his lips as the words within met his gaze. They were simple, chaste, yet breathing an intense longing for the one to whom they were addressed. “Robbie, I am here; I could not stay away. Oh, come and tell me if I am welcome. DORA. “At the Glenburn House.”