"He never said so much to any body before," thought he, "and what will he do if I die?"
In such thoughts as these Grace found her brother engaged one still autumn morning, as he stood leaning against the garden fence.
"What are you solemnizing here for, this bright day, brother George?" said she, as she bounded down the alley.
The young man turned and looked on her happy face with a sort of twilight smile.
"How happy you are, Grace!" said he.
"To be sure I am; and you ought to be too, because you are better."
"I am happy, Grace—that is, I hope I shall be."
"You are sick, I know you are," said Grace; "you look worn out. O, I wish your heart could spring once, as mine does."
"I am not well, dear Grace, and I fear I never shall be," said he, turning away, and fixing his eyes on the fading trees opposite.
"O George! dear George, don't, don't say that; you'll break all our hearts," said Grace, with tears in her own eyes.