MAY-FI.OWKRS.
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��It was a Monday afternoon, when Mr. Somerton and Miss Walker might have been seen walking upon the hillsides to the west of Concord. The spring was early this year. The warm sun beamed upon the grass and the budding trees, and .the bluebirds poured their licjuid melody upon the glad air ; and it seemed to Edgar Somerton, as he watched the waves of Miss Lucretia's bright hair flowing softly over the blue dress on this sunny day of spring, that the bluebirds themselves were not more free than she, and that he might sooner ho])e to call the bluebirds to his hand than to approach Miss l.ucretia nearer than a mere casual friend might come. She was so far, so far away from him. like the evening star, which looks upon the earth with tender eye, but keeps its state inviolate for ever. She was kind, and talked pleasantly and sweetly of the bright season with all its burst- ing joy ; yet she was in her very friend- liness so unattainable, that it was al- most a pain to be with her.
" I have heard it said, Mr. Somer- ton," she began, after a while, " that your stay in Concord is to be cut short in a few months. I hope I am wrong."
" I should choose to stay here for ever, if the libertv were mine." he re- lilied.
You would hardly hnd room enough in Concord," she said, '• to use your best powers for any long time. It is but a small place."
" What are powers, and what is suc- cess, if the sweetness of living be gone ? Oh, I will not go, J can not leave — my friends."
" I am sure we should all be sorry. But you are always sure of friends, wherever you go."
" Friends, friends, what are friends?" he said.
You sjjoke of lea\ ing them your- self," she answered.
" A man can have but one friend, Miss Walker," he cried with suppressed passion, looking up hopelessly as he spoke. " Miss Walker, you are the light of my life."
- ' I am sure," she returned ([uictly
��and kindly, after a half-involuntary glance at her companion, " I am sure, Mr. Somerton, I wish I might brighten your life a little for you, for I have no- ticed that it seems too gloomy some- times. Do not let me be a moth's candle, though," she added more ([uickly. " Hut see, what glorious blos- soms."
Cilorious they were indeed, and she stooped to gather a handful as she spoke. Kdgar Somerton stood beside her without the heart to help her, or, perhaps, his thoughts were too painful to give him leave for such attentions. But at last he bethought him of his duty, and the basket was soon filled. The sun was low, and it seemed to iMJgar Somerton, as he walked home with Miss AValker, that the crimson clouds, which faded so soon into dull Ixanks of leaden gray, were the aptest symbols of his ill-starred hopes.
He half forgot his pain, a kw days later, when Miss Walker met him upon the street, with her kind smile. " \Vill you walk up to grandfather Walker's with me. Mr. Somerton? " she said. "T am staying there now while our house is empty. The rest of the family have gone to Cambridge to visit my brother Charles, whose class is to give a grand entertainment on May-day."
" What kind reason kept you with us in Concord? I am sure your brother could spare you least of all."
" Oh, we like some of the children to stay with grandpa, and keep him cheerful," she replied, " but why do you always talk of me, as Colonel I)ar- rington used to do, who was (juartered here three or four years ago. He ([uite turned my head ; I was only a child then, and he should have known better. But officers are almost always reckless."
" Yes, that is why they are favorites. Prudence makes few friends."
" And yet," she answered, •' I am sure that men may sometimes be brave and spirited, without being headstrong and rash. Ah !" and her voice grew stronger, while the far-away unap- jiroachableness seemed to fall again
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