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Softly, and with trembling hand, I opened the casket that contained the treasure, and for the first time since her death, my eyes rested upon the dimly remembered features of my angel mother. "O Lizzie Heartwell! At the first glimpse of that sweet, but half-forgotten face, I fell, like a helpless thing that I was, to the floor, prostrate with emotion.
It is worth mentioning that these years had brought some changes to the lives and fortunes of three of the four firm friends at Madam Truxton's, and to others who were once sworn friends at the institute. In her quiet home at Melrose, Lizzie Heartwell was confronting daily the stern duties of life amid a bevy of bright-eyed little scholars, wearing with easy grace the dignity of school-mistress.
Since that dark, gloomy day when Leah Mordecai acquainted Lizzie Heartwell with some of the facts of her sad life, not a word further had been spoken on the subject. But they had seemed bound to each other by an indissoluble bond of love.
When Lizzie Heartwell, attended by the kind captain, descended below deck, she remembered the little missive, and drawing it from its hiding-place, read: "Miss HEARTWELL: What would you think, if my wanderings should lead me, some day, to Melrose? "Regretfully, "G.M." "Think I should like to see you," uttered the young girl, with a smile, as she folded the note again out of sight.
Nervous from excitement and emotion, it was late that same night before Lizzie Heartwell could quiet herself to slumber. Leah's melancholy story still haunted her. At length she slept and dreamed slept with the tear-stains on her cheeks, and dreamed a strange, incongruous, haunting dream, reverberating with the deadly war of artillery, and flashing with blazing musketry.
The gentle sea-breeze had arisen, and though it sported with the helpless ribbon upon her bosom, and kissed again and again the crimson cheeks, it could not cool the fires of anxiety and sorrow that burned within her heart. She felt that she was losing much in losing Lizzie Heartwell. And the fear was not an idle one.
Fond of children, loving study, happy always to help those desiring knowledge, glad to enlighten the ignorant, Lizzie Heartwell was happy, and useful too, in the work in which she was employed. It was now more than three years since Lizzie left Madam Truxton's, and she was now ending the second year of her teaching. It was September.
My school opens at eight o'clock, for in this country we teach a long, honest day. Our people know nothing of the five-hour system," she replied merrily. "Then, Miss Heartwell, if you will grant me the pleasure, I'll call early in the morning, and we'll stroll by the river-side. I must tell you further of my coming to Melrose, and then I'll see you in your field of labor.
"Yes, I go by steamer by the Firefly, that leaves to-morrow for the port of , in my native State, and from there to Melrose, where I live." "At what hour does the steamer leave?" inquired the young man thoughtfully. "At six P.M., uncle tells me." "And you leave so soon six P.M. to-morrow?" he asked. "Maybe I am selfish in monopolizing you so long, Miss Heartwell.
As George Marshall looked up, a tear stole from her true blue eyes, and moved by this evidence of emotion, he said with deep-toned pathos: "Miss Heartwell, I love you, and you know it. If it were not a sin against the great God, I would say I adore you. May I not hope that those crystal tears betray the existence of a kindred love for me?
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