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“Ah! aunt, you may know that now, if I am to decide,” said Julia, “it will be Anna, my Anna, surely.”

Her manner was enthusiastic, and her voice a little louder than usual. Antonio turned his head, and their eyes met. Julia read in that glance the approbation of her generous friendship. Miss Emmerson was a good deal hurt at this decision of her niece, who, she thought, knowing her sentiments, would be induced to have been satisfied with the visit to Anna, and taken Katherine for the winter. It was with reluctance that the aunt abandoned this wish, and, after a pause, she continued–

“Remember, Julia, that you have not my permission to ask your friend until the twentieth–we can stay but one night at Mr. Miller’s, but if Anna is to spend the winter in Park Place, we will return this way from the Falls, and take her with us to the city.”

“Thank you, dear aunt,” cried Julia, kissing her with an affection that almost reconciled Miss Emmerson to the choice–while Charles Weston whistled “Hail, Columbia! happy land!”

Julia saw that Antonio pitied her impatience–for the moment he arrived in sight of Mr. Miller’s house, he put his horses to their speed, and dashed into the court-yard in the space of a few minutes. For a little while all was confusion and joy. Anna seemed delighted to see her friend, and Julia was in raptures–they flew into each other’s arms–and if their parting embrace was embalmed in tears, their meeting was enlivened with smiles. With arms interlocked, they went about the house, the very pictures of joy.–Even Antonio, at the moment, was forgotten, and all devoted to friendship. Nay, as if sensible of the impropriety of his appearance at that critical instant, he withdrew himself from observation–and his delicacy was not lost on Julia. Happy are they who can act in consonance with their own delicate sentiments, and rest satisfied with the knowledge that their motives are understood by those whom it is their greatest desire to please!—Such, too fortunate Antonio, was thy lot–for no emotion of thy sensitive mind, no act of thy scrupulously honourable life, passed unheeded by thy Julia!–so thought the maiden.

It has been already mentioned that the family of Mr. Miller was large; and amid the tumult and confusion of receiving their guests, no opportunity was afforded to the friends for conversation in private. The evening passed swiftly, and the hour for bed arrived without any other communication between Julia and Anna than whisperings and pressures of the hands, together with a thousand glances of peculiar meaning with the eyes. But Julia did not regret this so much as if Antonio had been unknown–she had been in his company for four days, and knew, or thought she knew, already, as much of his history as Anna herself.–But one thought distressed her, and that was, that his residence might be far from the house of her aunt. This reflection gave the tender-hearted girl real pain, and her principal wish to converse with Anna in private was to ascertain her future lot on this distressing point. No opportunity, however, offered that night, and Julia saw that in the morning her time would be limited, for Miss Emmerson desired Mr. Miller to order her carriage to be in readiness to start so soon as they had breakfasted.

“When, dear aunt, am I to give Anna the invitation,” said Julia, when they were left alone, “if you start so early in the morning?”

“The proper time will be, my child, immediately before we get into the carriage,” said Miss Emmerson, with a sigh of regret at the determination of her niece; “it will then be more pointed, and call for an immediate answer.”

This satisfied Julia, who knew that it would be accepted by her friend, and she soon fell asleep, to dream a little of Anna, and a great deal of Antonio.

The following morning Julia arose with the sun, and her first employment was to seek her friend. Anna had also risen, and was waiting impatiently for the other’s appearance, in the vacant parlour.