living in comfortable, though not affluent circumstances. Her only daughter, Jessie, was her mother’s darling, and well deserved the affection which was lavished upon her. She was about the same age as Edward Malcolmson, and, without being absolutely lovely, there was a charm in her simple, unaffected manners, and in the ingenuous expression of her countenance, which, added to an uncommonly fine figure and sweet voice, gave her the advantage over others who far excelled her in mere beauty of feature. Between her mother and Mrs Malcolmson, the closest intimacy had existed for several years; indeed, they had lived so secludedly, that they had hardly any acquaintances beyond the circle of their own families. The consequence was, that the young people were almost constantly in each other’s society; and their parents remarked, with pleasure, the mutual attachment which seemed to be springing up between them. They did, indeed, feel a warmer regard for each other than is often the result of such constant and close intimacy; for it is but too often the case with human character as it is with the face of nature—“’Tis distance lends enchantment to the view.” But it was not till the time of Edward’s departure approached, that they became mutually aware how dear they were to each other. The morning before leaving Edinburgh, young Malcolmson called to bid adieu to his friends. Mrs Martin happened to be out walking, and Jessie was sitting alone in the parlour, when Edward was ushered in. She turned pale when she saw him; for her heart sunk at the prospect of their approaching separation. “Jessie,” said he, after they had sat in silence some minutes, “I have come to bid you farewell.” “I feared so,” said she, striving in vain to repress her tears. “Do not—do not cry, dear Jessie,” exclaimed he, starting up, and seizing her hand, while his own eyes were dimmed with tears—“I cannot bear to witness your distress.” “Would you have me look happy and cheerful, when my old friend and companion is going to leave me, perhaps never to return?” “Companion, Jessie! friend!—these are cold words to me, whose whole heart is yours; who live but in the light of your smile; who love you as I have never before loved human being, and never shall love again. Jessie! dear Jessie! tell me that I do not love in vain; give me one word of hope to cheer me during my painful absence. Will you not answer, dearest?” She turned her tearful eye up to his face, and then, hiding her blushing cheek upon his arm, she murmured— “What would you have me say, Edward? We have been dearer to each other than brother and sister; we have been dreaming a pleasant dream, and now we are awakening from it; we are about to part, perhaps never to meet again.”