Marguerite Verne by Armour, Rebecca Agatha, 1846?-1891

"What shall I call you, Louise, a pessimist?"

"For goodness sake! Helen, be moderate. Remember that a successful speaker always adapts himself to the capacity of his hearers."

"What's all this about? preaching I suppose--something about hearers! Jennie Montgomery!" cried both girls in concert.

Cousin Jennie was truly the ruling spirit of the party. She was ready for anything that was proposed and met each difficulty with a happy solution.

Had Louise Rutherford gone further into the subject of changes she might have claimed the bright eyed Jennie as illustration.

A change had come to happy "Gladswood," Leslie Graham had won the esteem of aunt Hester, and in return had gained the heart of her daughter.

The fond mother does not regret her loss for she knows that the young man is possessed of all those traits of character which are truly noble and elevating, and which cannot fail to bring happiness to her whose happiness is his only concern.

Ah! yes, in Jennie Montgomery's face one can read her secret. She loves and is loved in return and that is all we wish to know.

A few minutes later, by a happy coincidence, there is a quartette grouped together in careless but artistic style.

"This reminds me of a morning at 'Sunnybank.' Do you remember it Madge?"

A slight quiver of the pretty lips was followed by a faint blush-- Helen Rushton raised her hand as if to gain audience.

"That is intended for me girls. I am the only one who is not engaged. I was at 'Sunnybank' on the morning to which Miss Louise refers, and certainly I was the one who made the remark."

"Helen is mistaken, I think," said Marguerite in her soft, sweet way.

"She is indeed," said Louise, with much earnestness. "It was while we were in the library, and all sitting together Josie Jordan suddenly called out: 'Girls where will we all be two years from now? That two years expired yesterday, and the thought now occurred to me as we became grouped together in the old familiar way."

"Forgive me, Louise, darling, I am too impulsive. Let us now take on two more years and hope that when the time expires we will be as happy then as now."

"Heaven grant it thus," was the fervent prayer of each, though the words were unsaid, and as the merry party returned homeward full of life and gaiety there were none who felt happier than Marguerite Verne and her three companions.

* * * * *

A glorious autumn day in 1886 brings together a joyous and happy group--the old familiar one. The hostess of the luxurious home is the wife of Phillip Lawson. Ah! Marguerite you can never lose your angelic beauty and softness of expression. In the violet eyes there is a light that sheds a radiance over the little household, and imparts a warmth to each suffering heart that has been chilled by contact with the selfish and calculating world.

"Helen you are a darling! you are true blue!" were the words which greeted the smiling visitor as she pounced in upon the fair young matron, with the flush of excitement upon her fair, broad forehead and oval cheeks.