"Yes, I really long for Woodcliff; a peep at New York life has been sufficient." A bright smile passed over Roland's face. "I was afraid, or rather I thought that you might have been intoxicated by its flattery." "It is very empty, Mr. Bruce, all mirage and outside show; I want something better; point lace and diamonds, with glitter and show without sincerity, will not satisfy one that once longed for inward peace." They are sitting apart from the rest, who were engaged in their own conversation. Roland drew near to Madeline, and in a low tone, he whispered, "Madeline, do you long for this better life now?" She blushed deeply at the old familiar name, as she replied, "Most intensely, Roland; the world has lost its charms for me." Just then, Helen stepped up, and interrupted the conversation. "Will you not persuade Madeline to sing?" said the young girl. "If you will favor us first, Helen;" and Roland led her to the piano, and stood turning over the leaves for her, while she sang. Was it the tenderness of a lover, or the mere interest of a friend that marked his manner towards Helen? inquired Madeline of her heart. There was something in the glance of Helen that betrayed more than a common interest. But what meant Roland's whispered words? old affection? or mere brotherly regard for one whom he remembered as a mere wayward child? After Helen, she took her seat at the piano, and song after song was called for. With all the simplicity of childish days, she poured forth those strains of thrilling melody, once heard, never to be forgotten. Roland shaded his eyes to hide the deep emotion which he could not control, when she warbled forth, "Ye banks and braes o' Bonny Doon," with the sweet pathos of her touching voice. He could not answer, even when she turned, and with the innocence of early days, said, in a low tone, "That was your mother's favorite, Mr. Bruce." He bowed, but could not reply. The evening passed; Madeline spoke her farewells to the family. Roland handed her to the carriage "Remember me in your daily prayers, Roland." "God bless you, Madeline, forever and ever; and I feel that he will with his choicest blessings." "Helen is a sweet girl; I hope that you may be happy." The carriage drove off--Roland retired to muse upon the evening, and the next day, Madeline was on her road to Woodcliff. On the following day, a note was delivered to Roland with a check for one hundred dollars for the "Home for the News-boys." Once more in sight of Woodcliff, Madeline's heart beat warmly towards every object around her dear home. Effie was on the piazza to meet her, but Madeline was shocked to see the change in the dear girl. "Oh! how welcome you are, Madeline! I have been so lonely; if it had not been for the poor people that you gave me to take care of, I should have been dreary enough; for Dr. Jenks will not allow me to use my eyes at all." "I am so glad to be back at the dear old home, Effie."