preying on his heart; but she doubted, too, for what could he have done to plunge his soul in such a hell of remorse?  He commit a crime?  Impossible! the thought was treason; a sin to be repented of and expiated.  His fame was fairest of the fair, his name most honored among the, honorable.  If not remorse, what then was the nature of his life-long sorrow?  Many, many times she revolved this question in her mind.  And as she matured in thought and affection, the question grew more earnest and importunate.  Oh, that he would unburden his heart to her; oh! that she might share and alleviate his griefs.  If “all earnest desires are prayers,” then prayer was Miriam’s “vital breath and native air” indeed; her soul earnestly desired, prayed, to be able to give her sorrowing brother peace.

CHAPTER XXXI.

DREAMS AND VISIONS.

Winter waned.  Mrs. Waugh had attended the commodore to the South, for the benefit of his health, and they had not yet returned.

Mrs. Morris and Alice were absent on a long visit to a relative in Washington City, and were not expected back for a month.  Paul remained in Baltimore, attending the medical lectures.

The house at Dell-Delight was very sad and lonely.  The family consisted of only Thurston, Fanny and Miriam.

A change had also passed over poor Fanny’s malady.  She was no longer the quaint, fantastical creature, half-lunatic, half-seeress, singing snatches of wild songs through the house—­now here, now there—­now everywhere, awaking smiles and merriment in spite of pity, and keeping every one alive about her.  Her bodily health had failed, her animal spirits departed; she never sang nor smiled, but sat all day in her eyrie chamber, lost in deep and concentrated study, her face having the care-worn look of one striving to recall the past, to gather up and reunite the broken links of thought, memory and understanding.

At last, one day, Miriam received a letter from Paul, announcing the termination, of the winter’s course of lectures, the conclusion of the examination of medical candidates, the successful issue of his own trial, in the acquisition of his diploma, and finally his speedy return home.

Miriam’s impulsive nature rebounded from all depressing thoughts, and she looked forward with gladness to the arrival of Paul.

He came toward the last of the week.

Mr. Willcoxen, roused for a moment from his sad abstraction, gave the youth a warm welcome.

Miriam received him with a bashful, blushing joy.

He had passed through Washington City on his way home, and had spent a day with Mrs. Morris and her friends, and he had brought away strange news of them.

Alice, he said, had an accepted suitor, and would probably be a bride soon.

A few days after his return, Paul found Miriam in the old wainscoted parlor seated by the fire.  She appeared to be in deep and painful thought.  Her elbow rested on the circular work-table, her head was bowed upon her hand, and her face was concealed by the drooping black ringlets.