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.
"What is the matter, dear, sister?" he asked, in that tender, familiar tone, with which he sometimes spoke to her.
"Oh, Paul, I am thinking of our brother! Can nothing soothe or cheer him, Paul? Can nothing help him? Can we do him no good at all? Oh, Paul! I brood so much over his trouble! I long so much to comfort him, that I do believe it is beginning to affect my reason, and make me 'see visions and dream dreams.' Tell me—do you think anything can be done for him?"