Will it be so to-morrow, do you suppose ?" "To-morrow!" repeated Cornelia.

"Dear me! to-morrow is my last day here." "The last day!" echoed Bressant, in a tone of dismay.

"Shall we find one another the same as to-night when you come back ?" "Why not ?" responded she, with a resumption of cheerfulness.

"I sha'n't be gone but three months." So the conversation lingered along, until gradually the greater part of it was supported by Bressant, while Cornelia sat quiet and listened--a thing she had never done before.

But the young man's way of expressing himself was picturesque and piquant, keeping the attention thoroughly awake.