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her. At length she gave one last, lin- gering look to the village where he was stopping for the night, and then she sought her couch, but not lo sleep. She heard the whistle of the departing train which bore him away in the early dawn, and she could but wonder at the dreary heart-ache, the utter desolation that came to her at the sound.
A lovely day — the sun shone, the birds warbled, the air was filled with the sweetest odors. Josephine Granger was seated in the shade of a tall maple which stood near her home. She held an open letter in her hand, and a sweet, glad light shone from her lovely eyes. Lee really loved her — he had not forgotten her as she had feared when day after day passed and there had eome no word from him. The two weeks that had elapsed since he had left her seemed like so many months to the young girl, but now she held his first letter, brief and not just what she had fondly hoped it would be, but nevertheless a letter, and now the world had once more put on a look of beauty. There was not the faintest thought in her heart but that he loved her. She must tell her parents now, and they would let her go away where she would receive an education which would fit her to be Lee Courtney's wife. A step near by arrested her attention, and glancing quickly upward she saw a young man approaching her, tall and sun-burned, but nevertheless handsome and manly. A shade of annoyance passed over her face at being thus dis- turbed in her day-dreams, but it gave way to a look ot pleasure as she made room for him at her side, at the same time saying:
" Well, Frank, you are back again. I am glad to see you. How do you like your new home?"
"Oh, little girl, it is just a jolly place. I really think there's not a handsomer farm this side the Connecticut than mine. Mother's a little lonesome, the folks be- ing all strangers to her, you know," he replied, a little awed by the change he felt rather than saw in the girl by his side. " Of course that was to have been ex-
��LOVE WINS LOVE.
pected, Frank. There are not many old ladies who would have so willingly given up the home which had been theirs for so many years, as did your mother! She is well, is she not?"
Yes, oh. yes, she is well — but, I say, little girl, what's come over you? You don't seem at all like the Josephine I left at Glenville depot the day we went away. Are you sick?"
A flush dyed her face, but she laugh- ingly replied :
" No, Frank, I am not sick — on the contrary, I am perfectly well and happy," a tender light coming into her eyes as she raised them to her compan- ion's face. Why not tell him of the love which had come into her life? He had been her friend always, her companion to and from school, the one true and con- stant friend that takes the place of a brother. He had been the one .to show her where the nicest berries grew, to gather pond- lilies for her— in short, she had loved him as if he had been her brother, and when he had sold the old rocky farm on the hill-side and bought a larger one upon the banks of the Connec- ticut, distant some twenty miles from her home, she had shed bitter tears. He had been absent but three months and it was pleasant to have him back again, and — yes, she would tell him ; but first she would acquaint him with her intention of leaving home, so. looking up into his kindly lace, she said suddenly :
" I am going away, Frank. I intend to go to some large school for young ladies, and I wish to be something more than an uneducated farmer's daughter." Then, not noting the pained look that came into his face, she said softly, hiding her blushing face from his eager gaze : "I — 1 wish to tell j r ou something, brother Frank, but I don't know how to tell it."
There was no reply for a moment, then, looking up, Josephine saw that the browned face had grown quite pale.
" You don't need to tell me, little girl," — his pet name for her always. '■ I heard something at the village, but I would not, could not believe it. I see now that it is true. Oh, Josephine, did you not guess that I loved you, that I
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