the morning sun threw its ruddy beams, warm almost to tropical heat, through the half-closed casement of leah mordecai's apartment, and the intrusive light opened the dark, dreamy eyes to consciousness. the hour was late. toil-worn and languid from hard study and the relaxing climate, leah rested in her bed reluctant to arise.

"it's all over now; school-days are ended, and i am acknowledged a young lady, i suppose," thought leah half-consciously, as she aroused at length from slumber. then the thought came that it was the last day of lizzie heartwell's sojourn in the queen city; and leah sprang from her repose with a new and powerful impulse. "i shall spend these last hours with her," she muttered articulately, as she hastily performed the morning's simple toilet. "yes, i'll tell her my secret, too, though to no living soul have i breathed it yet," she continued audibly, as she adjusted a pin here and there among the dark braids of her hair. at last, smoothing the jetty bands across the fair, oval forehead, she glanced back again to see that the scar--the hated, dreadful scar--was hidden. then placing a knot of scarlet ribbon amid the delicate lace-work of her snowy morning dress, she languidly descended the stairs and entered the library, where her father sat awaiting her appearance.

mr. mordecai was proud of leah; proud of her attainments at school, gratified with her grade of deportment, and delighted that she had "finished," and with so much credit. as she entered the library, he arose, and clasping her in his arms, imprinted first a good-morning and then a congratulatory kiss upon her face.

"i am proud of my daughter," he said; "proud that no one at madam truxton's excelled my own leah. i am proud of your example to your sisters, and trust they will strive to emulate it."

"thank you, father. i hope i shall never cause you shame," she replied with tenderness.

during this brief dialogue, the evil-eyed mother had sat an attentive listener, her jealous nature stirred to its depths. then she said:

"if you are so proud of leah now, what will you feel when sarah is through school?"

"additional happiness, i trust; and following her sister's example, she cannot disappoint papa," said mr. mordecai, stroking sarah upon the head softly, as he arose and led the way to the breakfast table.

the morning repast was finished with more than becoming haste, for mr. mordecai had waited to welcome his daughter, and would consequently be late at his bank.

"it's real late," said leah, as she followed her father from the house. "i hear the citadel clock striking ten. i must spend the morning with lizzie." then donning the light leghorn hat that gave her a gypsy-like appearance, she started forth toward rev. dr. heartwell's unpretentious house. as she passed block and square that marked the distance, her heart was heavy and her thoughts were sorrowful. she realized that it was perhaps her final leave--taking of her most cherished friend. her path led past the walls of the dark, gray citadel, and as she cast a glance up toward its turreted heights, and its prison-like windows, she sighed a deep-drawn, heart-felt sigh. and why?

the gentle sea-breeze had arisen, and though it sported with the helpless ribbon upon her bosom, and kissed again and again the crimson cheeks, it could not cool the fires of anxiety and sorrow that burned within her heart. she felt that she was losing much in losing lizzie heartwell. and the fear was not an idle one.

trembling with fatigue and deep-hidden emotion, leah at length stood at the door of dr. heartwell's house, awaiting the answer of the porter.

the door opened. "m-m-miss l-l-lizzie s-s-says c-c-come right u-up stairs, m-m-iss m-m-ordecai," stuttered out the polished black hannibal who attended the door, known throughout the large circle of dr. heartwell's friends and acquaintances as a most accomplished servant and a most miserable stammerer.

"very well; please show me the way," replied leah, repressing a smile.

up two flights of stairs she followed the dark guide, and when they arrived at lizzie's room, whose door stood ajar, he said, with a flourish of his right hand; "m-m-iss m-m-mordecai, m-m-iss l-l-lizzie."

"well, hannibal, why don't you tell me?" said lizzie playfully; and hannibal retreated below stairs, grinning and rubbing his head in confusion. the girls were left alone. lizzie was busy packing trunks and arranging boxes, while every description of feminine paraphernalia was lying about the room in disorder.

"now let me help you, dear," said leah, "and then we can have a long talk."

"thank you, so we will. i'll first tumble these things into that trunk quick as a flash, for aunt rose will not come up to inspect them, i guess; and when i get home my mother will give them a good overhauling. i am tired and worn out from hard study and excitement, and my good mother will excuse my disorder, this time. cram them in. here goes the shawl, now comes my dress, the muslin i wore last night. don't let me crush that. i'll fold it carefully, for the sake of the compliment it secured me last night," said lizzie, smiling as she turned the snowy garment about, folding it for the trunk.

"what was that?" said leah.

"george marshall said i looked like a pearl, my dress was so gauzy. how does that sound to-day? it sounded very well last night. i scarcely made him a reply. i don't know how to reply to such speeches, but i thought if i did look like a pearl in my gauzy robes, it was owing to my mother's good taste and skilful fingers, for no professional modiste touched or contrived my dress."

"it's as handsome as any madame aufait turns out, i think," said leah.

"not as handsome as yours, leah; but then my mother has to consider the cost in everything, and you do not."

these words of lizzie's, this kind and loving allusion to her mother's tenderness and never-wearying care, fell upon the heart of leah as the cold, cruel steel falls upon the unoffending dove. she looked out of the window and brushed a tear from the fringed eyelids, that lizzie might not see it.

lizzie continued, "i must take care of this dress, leah; i don't know when i shall have a new one again. maybe, dear, the next time you hear from me, i'll be playing school--ma'am, and such robes will not be often brought into use. how would you like to be my pupil, leah?" she said, with a forced attempt at pleasantry.

leah looked seriously at her friend a moment, and said, "you haven't any idea of teaching, really, lizzie?"

"yes, dear, i may teach. my mother is a widow, you know, and by no means wealthy. i am the oldest child. she has educated me at great sacrifice, with my dear uncle's assistance, and it would be wrong in me not to show my gratitude by at least endeavoring to maintain myself, if nothing more. oh yes, love, by and by i shall be an angular school--ma'am, unless"--and she laughed a roguish, merry laugh--"unless i get married."

"dear me! how the wind blows!" said leah, as the white muslin curtain flapped backward and forward in the playful breeze, ever and anon covering her beautiful head and face.

"yes, leah, this same sweet sea-breeze will soon waft me far from you, when to meet again, god only knows. i am about through this packing now, and we must have our talk--our last, long, confidential chat, for many, many days."--"maybe years," leah added sorrowfully.

"here goes old trunk number one. books, and everything pertaining to school-days, are tucked away in you;" and she turned the key. "this one, number two, i shall not close till aunt rose makes a little deposit in it of something for my mother--so she requested me." then stooping down, lizzie drew forth from its hiding-place a carefully wrapped little bundle, and handing it to leah, said:

"here, dear, is a scarlet silk scarf, fringed with gold, that i desire to give you as a keepsake. it is something i prize, as it was brought from greece by an uncle of mine, some years ago. its colors will contrast beautifully with your sweet face; take it."

"keep it yourself, lizzie. i need nothing, i care for nothing, for personal adornment. you tell me i am beautiful, but that does not satisfy the heart that has suffered so from cruel wrong-doing. i care only for that of which i receive so little--human sympathy and love. take it back."

"no; keep it as a memento of my love, if you never care to wear it," said lizzie.

leah laid her arms around lizzie's neck at these words, and bending her head kissed her again and again.

"now i am done, let's sit here by the window that looks out toward the sea, and have our chat."