something real and tangible. I feel it in my entire being: some one is coming to make me whole."

"A woman?"

"Yes; a woman such as you nor I have never looked upon."

"You are weary now, Ralph; will you not lie down?"

"I will to please you; but I am far from being weary."

She smoothed his pillow, and led him to the couch. At that instant a carriage drove to the door, and several persons alighted.

Marion turned her gaze from the strangers to her brother. Never in her life had she seen him look as he did then. His eyes glowed, not with excitement, but with new life. The color mounted to cheeks and forehead, while he kept pacing up and down the room, too full of joy and emotion to utter a single sentence.

"What is it, brother?"

This question, anxiously put, was all she could say, for she perceived, dimly, a sense of some approaching crisis.

Her anxious look touched him, and he threw himself on the couch, and permitted her to pass her hand gently over his brow.

"There; it's over now."

"What, Ralph?"

"The strange tremor of my being. Marion, some one has come to this hotel, who will strangely affect my future life."

"The woman,--the soul you felt in the air?" she inquired, now excited in turn.

"Yes, the soul has come; my soul. I shall look on her before to-morrow's sun has set. I feel an affiliation, a quality of life which never entered my mental or physical organization before. And Marion, this quality is mine by all the laws of Heaven." He sank back upon the couch like a weary child, and soon passed into a sweet slumber.

Marion watched the color as it came into his face. It was the flush of health, not the hectic tinge of disease; and his breath, once labored and short, was now easy and calm as an infant's.

Some wondrous change seemed to have been wrought upon him. What was it? By what subtle process had his life blood been warmed, and his being so strongly affiliated with another life? and where was the being whose life had entered into his? Beneath the same roof, reading the beautiful story of "Evangeline."

The next morning Ralph arose, strong and refreshed, having slept much better than he had for many months.

"Such rest, Marion," he said, "will soon restore me to health," and his looks confirmed the truth of his statement.

"I should think you had found life's elixir, or the philosopher's stone, whose fabled virtues were buried with the alchemists of old. But who is the fairy, Ralph, and when shall we behold her face?"

"Before the sun has set to-day," he answered, confidently.

Marion smiled, looked slightly incredulous, and sat down to her books and work.

Towards the close of the day, her attention was attracted by a graceful figure approaching the river bank. Her hat had fallen from her head, displaying its beautiful contour, and in her hair were wild flowers, so charmingly placed, that they seemed as though they had grown there. She watched her with the deepest interest, and turned to beckon her brother to the window, when lo! he was directly behind her, and had seen the fair maiden all the while. He had been drawn there by an irresistible power, and in the single glance he felt the assurance that she was the being who was to bless his life. He would have given much, then, to have seen her face, and having watched her till out of sight, went to his couch for rest.

Marion looked on his placid features, and hope sprung up in her breast. She felt that her brother was, by some mysterious power, improving, and knew that he would fully recover his health. The flood-tides of affection flowed to the surface, and she wept tears of joy.

Towards sunset they walked out together. Even the mental excitement caused by looking upon Goethe's statue, and the beautiful Ariadne had not exhausted him as formerly, and he was able to go into the evening air for the first time for many months.

They returned to their rooms, and talked of the stranger.

"Is she not lovely?" asked Marion, after long silence.

But in that dreamy silence, Ralph had, in spirit, been absent from his sister and present with her of whom she inquired. The sound of her voice brought him back; he started and said,--

"Who?"

"Why the stranger, of whom we were speaking."

"Lovely?" he replied; "she is more than that, she is holy, heavenly, pure. But let us talk no more tonight, dear; I am weary."

The link was broken; her words had called him from the sphere of the beautiful stranger, and he needed rest.

"Just what I feared," she said to herself, "he is mentally excited, and to-morrow will droop."

Contrary to her fears, however, he awoke fresh and bright on the morrow, and able to visit with her, many places of interest. He did not see the stranger that day, nor the one succeeding.

"I fear they have gone," said his sister, as Ralph walked nervously through the room. "I saw several go last evening, and she may have been among the number."

"No, no; she has not gone. I should feel her absence were she away. I should have no strength, but lose what I have gained, and droop. I feel her here under this roof. I am approaching her, and shall, within a few hours, look on her face, and hear her voice."

"Ah, Ralph, don't get too much excited, for I want you to look well when father and mother join us at Paris. They will be overjoyed to see how much you have improved."

He made a hasty gesture, which she did not see, and then, ashamed at his feeling of impatience, went and sat beside her, and arranged the silks in her basket. Engaged in this light pastime, he did not hear a low rap at the door.

"Come in," rose to the lips of Marion; then the thought flashed on her mind that the caller might be a stranger, and she arose and opened the door.

"Have you a guide-book you can loan me?"

The voice thrilled Ralph's being to its centre. He raised his eyes and said,--

"Come in; we will find the book for you."

To Marion's surprise she entered and seated herself by the window, but never for a moment took her eyes from the features of Ralph.

His hands trembled violently as he searched for the book among a pile on the table, and Marion had to find it at last, and pass it to the stranger, who took it, but moved not. Her eyes seemed transfixed, her feet fastened to the floor.

"This is the person who has drawn my life so since I came here. He is ill, but will recover," she said, stepping towards him, and placing her soft, white hand upon his brow.

During this time Ralph was speechless, and felt as though he was struck dumb. He trembled in every limb, as she gently led him to the couch and motioned him to lie down. Then his limbs relaxed, his breath became calm, the face lost all trace of weariness, and he passed into a deep, mesmeric sleep. "Fold on fold of sleep was o'er him," and the fair one stood silently there, her eyes dreamy and far off, until his being was fully enrapt in that delicious state which but few on earth have experienced.

Then silently she withdrew, while Marion whispered in her ear, "Come again; please do, for this is so new and strange to me."

"I will," she said, and quietly departed.

An hour passed, and he did not awake; another, and still he slumbered. "Can it be? O, is it the sleep which precedes death? I fear it may be," and the anxious sister, musing thus, suppressed a rising sigh. He moved uneasily. She had disturbed the delicate state by her agitated thoughts.

"O, if she would come," said Marion, "I should have no fear."

At that instant the door opened, and the wished for visitor glided in.

"Has she read my thought?"

"Fear not," whispered the stranger, in a voice and manner not her own, "thy brother but sleepeth. All is well; disease will have left him when he awakes. I will stay awhile."

A volume of thanks beamed from Marion's face at these words, as she took her seat close by the side of the fair girl.

At the end of the third hour he awoke. The stranger glided from the room just as his eyes were opening, and Marion closed the door, and went and sat beside him.

"What was it like, Ralph? O! how strange it all seems to me."

"Like? sister mine; like dew to the parched earth; strength to the