self-forgetfulness which binds all around to a warm and voluntary attention and remembrance, and Caroline felt that the cares and fatigues of such a sick chamber were any thing but a task. She was sole nurse, for though every effort had been made to procure a regular one, there was no such being within ken, and the neighbors, though all kindness, were distant, and could not leave their homes, or perhaps were detained by the illness of their own families, for it is one of the disadvantages of the country that sickness is very apt to prevail in neighborhoods so as to make it difficult to procure attendance. During this time of trial and anxiety Seymour was by no means an idle spectator. He had become interested in Mrs. Thurston and her husband from the circumstances of his first meeting with them, and they in turn had appreciated his kind. manner, and felt gratified by his friendly attentions. Now that they were in need of real and substantial aid, Seymour was at the service of the sick and afflicted, and many times a day might have been observed galloping in various directions, on different errands of mercy, a most useful auxiliary in the country where population is so scattered, and the ordinary comforts of the invalid sometimes so far to seek. It not unfrequently fell to his lot to be the bearer of messages or more ponderous matters between Mr. Hay's house and the scene of suffering, and sometimes to escort to and fro the young nurse, when she could be spared for a little while. It would be difficult to say just what were Seymour's feelings towards his fair enemy at this period. He thought them those belonging to indifference; indeed, he sometimes concluded, of dislike. Her manner, though softened much by the late rousing of her sensibilities, was still that of one who had been accustomed to admiration; and though she had gradually, and almost unconsciously, laid by all her finery, her appearance retained something of that dashing air which struck Seymour unpleasantly, both from his natural taste for grave simplicity and from its unsuitableness to the objects by which they were surrounded. And Miss Hay, if she thought of Seymour at all, had all old impressions habitually present, although she was often surprised to notice traits which she could not reconcile to those impressions. But she was not much concerned to do justice to one whom she had known as a clodhopper; so their intercourse, though civil and frequent, was frigid enough. They were one evening at sunset returning together to Mr. Ellingham's, and had turned from the high road into the wood, when they were overtaken by a horseman, whose rapid pace continued till he had passed them, when he reined up suddenly, and greeted Miss Hay as an old acquaintance. He was a young man of gentlemanly appearance, and his face was of that striking and animated cast which one does not easily forget. His whole exterior was such as would claim some praise any where, and of course it was remarkable enough in a wild Western forest. Caroline was evidently embarrassed at the meeting, but recovering herself, introduced the gentleman as Mr. Avenard, and made inquiries after some city friends. The stranger's manner, in spite of manifest effort, betrayed a degree of agitation, and he eyed Seymour with no gratified air. The latter felt himself in the way, but he did not know very well how to get out of it, so the trio rode together to Mr. Ellingham's. Here Caroline apologized for not inviting the stranger to enter, on account of the situation of the family. His dark eyes flashed at this, and drawing as near her as possible, he asked, in a low tone, when he might hope to see her again. Caroline felt cruelly embarrassed. A thousand indistinct thoughts flashed across her mind in an instant. She knew that Avenard, though never a declared lover, had had abundant reason to suppose himself not disagreeable to her, and her heart whispered that if her sudden departure from the city had not prevented, he would probably have. been not only a declared but an accepted one. But even the short time which had flown since her return had been sufficient, under the circumstances, to throw an air of coldness and hollowness over most of her city reminiscences, and even over her partiality for this gay young man. The grief of Mrs. Thurston, her distressing illness, and the angelic piety which sustained her under all, had opened to Caroline a new world of thought and feeling; and the delightful consciousness of being useful had given her a sense of the true value and aim of life. So that Avenard and his claims had been for the time forgotten, and now that they were presented anew, she felt unprepared and uncomfortable. In reply to his question, she said, in a voice as low as his own, "I cannot receive a visit here, but if you will come in the morning, I will ride over with you to my father's." He bowed proudly and without speaking, and, turning his horse's head, rode away evidently dissatisfied; and Seymour Bullitt, not entering as usual, went his way too, with his heart beating inconveniently, and his face almost as red as when Caroline first knew him and about what? He could not make up his own mind on this point. What was it to him that this dashing young stranger had evidently expected a favorable reception from Miss Hay? He called to mind all the evidences of the young lady's dislike to himself, and they were faithfully recorded in his memory, — and then tried to bring proof equally satisfactory, of his own indifference to her likes or dislikes. It required all the time occupied in a |