THE ROUND WORLD SERIES 
 
 THE FULL STATURE OF A MAN. By Julian Warth. 
 GRAFENBURG PEOPLE. By Reuen Thomas. 
 THE RUSTY LINCHPIN AND LUBOFF ARCHIPOVNA. 
 
 By Mme. Kokhanovsky. 
 THE ROMANCE OF A LETTER. By Lowell Choate. 
 
 DOROTHY THORNE. By Julian Worth.
 
 THE 
 
 ROMANCE OF A LETTER 
 
 BY 
 
 LOWELL CHOATE 
 
 BOSTON 
 D LOTHROP COMPANY 
 
 FRANKLIN AND HAWLEY STREETS
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1887, 
 
 BY 
 D LOTHROP COMPANY
 
 TO ANNIE, 
 
 MY EARLY FRIEND AND COUNSELOR, THIS WORK 
 IS LOVINGLY DEDICATED BY 
 
 The Author 
 
 2134747
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A PEEP AT NEWBURY PARSONAGE ..... 7 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 JESSIE IN BOSTON . . . .1 ' ..... 21 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A MUDDY ADVENTURE . . . . . . . -34 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE LETTER ...;..... ......... 53 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MISS NORBERRY'S MISTAKE ....... 69 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION . . . . . -83 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 BY CHANCE, THE USUAL WAY . . . . . . 102 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 JESSIE RENEWS HER PROMISE ...... IQQ 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 NEARLY A DENOUEMENT ....... 115 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A NEW LEAF TURNED ..... . . . 134 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THWARTED PURPOSES ........ 144 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 PICTURES IN THE FIRE ...... , . .154 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 THE DOCTOR'S AVOWAL ....... 164
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MISS NORBERRY'S STRATAGEM 174 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 DOWN RIVER . 184 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 MISS NORBERRY'S REPENTANCE 211 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 JESSIE'S DILEMMA . 221 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A NIGHT JOURNEY ... 238 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 REVELATIONS 245 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 WESTWARD BOUND . . -. 257 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 SURRENDER 276 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 READING THE LETTER 296 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 DOCTOR FORNEY AT HOME 308 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ONE TOO MANY 314 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 MISS NORBERRY'S LESSON ^ . 327 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 RELEASE 33^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 WAITING . . . 344
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A LETTER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A PEEP AT NEWBURY PARSONAGE. 
 
 HIS serene Highness has come, Aunty, and I 
 have had the honor of showing him to his 
 room. When his High Mightiness is ready, I sup- 
 pose you will be allowed to welcome your guest, 
 the great Doctor Forney." 
 
 " Is he so very formidable ? " Mrs. Norberry 
 smilingly asked. 
 
 " Oh ! perhaps he has only a proper appreciation 
 of himself," was Jessie's rejoinder. 
 
 " So he has come. I do not see why I did not 
 hear the bell," mused Mrs. Norberry, at a loss to 
 understand how this guest could have entered her 
 house, and be already receiving its hospitalities ere 
 she was even aware of his arrival. 
 
 " He did not ring at all, for I reached home 
 7
 
 8 A PEEP AT NEWBURY PARSONAGE. 
 
 just as the carriage drove up which brought him 
 from the station," said Jessie. " Of course I knew 
 at once who he was, but he introduced himself 
 with due formality: so august a personage must 
 not for a moment be mistaken for any one else." 
 
 Mrs. Norberry smiled at this assumption of 
 dudgeon on the part of her high-spirited niece, 
 gently reminding her that first impressions are not 
 always trustworthy. 
 
 " I am sure, Aunty, if you had seen him drop his 
 valise the moment he got into the house, you would 
 have been impressed, as I was, with the impropriety 
 of such a magnate carrying his own baggage," was 
 the girl's laughing response. 
 
 " Then when I offered to show him his room 
 ( which, by the way, he asked for at once, as if the 
 house had been a public hostelry ) he looked at his 
 valise, and then all about as if expecting a servant 
 should be in waiting in every corner. I was on 
 the point of proposing to take it up for him when 
 he did condescend to do this service for himself. 
 But I am sure it hurt his dignity not a little." 
 
 The slightly remonstrative exclamation, " O, 
 Jessie ! " had escaped her aunt's lips while she was 
 speaking, and that lady now said, "You should
 
 A PEEP AT NEWBURY PARSONAGE. 9 
 
 not judge any one so hastily, dear. Doctor Forney 
 is probably unused to so simple a menage as ours ; 
 and you know the force of habit is very strong, 
 even with the best of people. When he consented 
 to come here and deliver the lecture to-night, your 
 uncle took it as a great courtesy, for it is not 
 often the doctor favors a small town like ours in 
 this way ; and we feel very desirous of making his 
 short stay with us a pleasant one. So you and I 
 will go down at -once, that we may be ready to 
 receive him when he leaves his room." Saying 
 which Mrs. Norberry arose, folded away the work 
 upon which she had been engaged, smoothed her 
 hair and collar which baby arms had rumpled, 
 but not till she was quitting the room did she 
 notice that Jessie had seated herself by the cradle, 
 where, with her head in a book, she had evidently 
 forgotten the guest whose claims upon their cour- 
 teous hospitality she had just been urging. 
 
 " Are you not coming down with me, dear ? " 
 she asked, pausing on the threshold. 
 
 " I beg to be excused, Aunty ; I really must have 
 time to fortify myself before another meeting with 
 the grand Mogul," returned Jessie, with a slightly 
 impatient shrug of the shoulders.
 
 IO A PEEP AT NEWBURY PARSONAGE. 
 
 " But what excuse can I make for you, child ? 
 He will be sure to inquire." 
 
 " O, no ! he won't. He took me for the nurse- 
 maid," interposed Jessie. " Do not fear that he 
 will inquire for so humble an individual. Aunt 
 Helen will be home in a few minutes now, and I 
 will send her down to help you entertain him. 
 She is always in her element with great people, 
 while they overshadow poor me." 
 
 Mrs. Norberry was evidently satisfied of the 
 uselessness of trying to change her niece's decis- 
 ion, for she said no more, but went to welcome her 
 guest whose step on the landing she now heard. 
 
 This lady had not been for ten years the wife of 
 a country minister without knowing what it was to 
 extend the hospitalities of her house to those who 
 were entire strangers to herself, as in the present 
 instance ; for she had never met Doctor Forney, 
 though his name was a familiar one, both from 
 hearing her husband speak of him, and through his 
 reputation on the lecture platform. 
 
 " Jessie, are you trying to waken Bertie that you 
 are rolling him over in that manner ? How many 
 times have I told you that it is a bad practice to 
 rock a sleeping child."
 
 A PEEP AT NEWBURY PARSONAGE. II 
 
 " O, Aunt Helen ! I'm glad you've come, for 
 Doctor Forney is here, and Aunt Kitty wants you 
 to come down and help her entertain him. Here, 
 I will take your things," Jessie added, hoping 
 thereby to expedite her aunt's movements. 
 
 " So he has come. I supposed he would be here 
 by this time. Well, I will remain with Bertie, and 
 you may go down and assist your Aunt Kitty to 
 entertain him," was Miss Norberry's reply as she 
 seated herself in an easy chair, and began leisurely 
 to divest herself of her outside wraps. 
 
 " I ? Why, I don't know him at all ; and Aunt 
 Kitty expects you, for I promised to send you to 
 her relief just as soon as you came in," cried 
 Jessie, with smiling audacity, which, however, did 
 not veil the concern she felt lest her aunt should 
 decide not to be sent. 
 
 Helen Norberry was the Rev. John Norberry's 
 maiden sister, a lady of forty-five or thereabouts, 
 but a still fresh and handsome woman. For the 
 last five years, or since her mother's death which 
 had broken up her home in Boston, she had lived 
 with her brother. 
 
 But "Aunt Helen," as the children called her, 
 was far from being the typical maiden aunt who
 
 12 A PEEP AT NEWBURY PARSONAGE. 
 
 could be called upon to do all sorts of disagreeable 
 things which no one else cared to be troubled with. 
 Not at all ; there was nothing of your humble ser- 
 vant about her, and no one but her orphan niece, 
 Jessie, with whom it was the purest sarcasm, ever 
 presumed to lay commands upon her. For Helen 
 Norberry's strongest characteristic was her domi- 
 nant will : she was a born ruler, though had it not 
 been for this niece whom she had brought up, her 
 powers apparently would have had but little play. 
 
 Loving Jessie with a single-heartedness rarely 
 found outside of mother-love, and feeling no little 
 pride in her beauty, wit and accomplishments, she 
 yet allowed her no free will of her own, but dis- 
 puted the girl's every independent action. 
 
 " Of course you will go down. I insist upon it. 
 It is not every day you have the opportunity of 
 meeting so learned and elegant a man as the doc- 
 tor. I am surprised that you do not better appre- 
 ciate the chance of making such an acquaintance. 
 Besides, you owe it to your " 
 
 Miss Norberry's sentence was not finished, for 
 she had raised her voice in speaking, and a pair of 
 bright eyes had suddenly opened in the cradle. 
 The wail which followed was apparently a protest
 
 A PEEP AT NEWBURY PARSONAGE. 13 
 
 against the disturbance of the peace which had 
 reigned before this lady's entrance. 
 
 Bertie's cries happily proved a diversion, and 
 saved Jessie from an ignominious defeat ; for 
 when her Aunt Helen asserted her authority, expe- 
 rience had taught Jessie that she had no will of 
 her own : she was not a free agent. 
 
 All Miss Norberry's efforts to soothe the young 
 autocrat whose slumbers she had so ruthlessly in- 
 vaded, were unavailing ; nor did the nursery cease 
 to echo to the child's cries till she had yielded 
 him to Jessie's arms, and left the room, vanquished 
 for once on her own battle-ground when just on 
 the eve of victory. 
 
 " Hush, darling! Jessie will stay with you," were 
 words that seemed to have a magical effect on the 
 turbulent spirit they sought to soothe, and as the 
 child nestled quietly into her arms, Jessie may be 
 excused the momentary light of triumph which 
 shone in her eyes. 
 
 Half an hour later when she entered the dining- 
 room in answer to the summons of the tea-bell, a 
 pair of baby arms were still clasped tightly about 
 her neck, while a little rosy cheek was in close 
 proximity to her own.
 
 14 A PEEP AT NEWBUKY PARSONAGE. 
 
 "Doctor, let me make you acquainted with my 
 niece, Jessie Norberry, my brother Allan's daugh- 
 ter," her uncle said by way of introducing her to 
 their guest, who was just taking his seat at table. 
 
 "Ah! Is it possible ? Allan Norberry 's daugh- 
 ter ? Miss Jessie, I am very happy to meet you," 
 said the doctor, with impressive earnestness, giv- 
 ing the hand she extended to him a grasp so 
 hearty and lingering as to annoy her. 
 
 This very pronounced recognition, now that he 
 knew who she was, piqued Jessie's resentment. 
 
 " I had the pleasure of receiving Doctor Forney 
 when he came this afternoon," she said, with a 
 mischievous light in her eye which boded no good 
 to him who had provoked it. After the brief 
 glance which she had given the doctor as her un- 
 cle introduced her to him, all her attention was 
 bestowed upon Bertie, whose clinging arms she 
 found hard to unloose when she would have placed 
 him in his chair. 
 
 Being something of an adept in human nature, 
 the doctor interpreted aright the glance of half- 
 scornful indifference on the bright, piquant face 
 which met his for a moment ; and he would per- 
 haps have thought no more about it, since it was
 
 A PEEP AT NEWBURY PARSONAGE. 15 
 
 not his habit to court the favor or smiles of 
 women ; but for certain reasons he determined 
 to be friends with Jessie Norberry, even though 
 she might not herself have so ordained. 
 
 The conversation during the meal turned en- 
 tirely upon the event of the evening, and Jessie 
 happily found herself left out of it, while her 
 uncle and the doctor discussed details. 
 
 On rising from the table Jessie thought to es- 
 cape at once from the room, and the notice of 
 their visitor; but she found herself unable to 
 resist Bertie's appeal that he should go too, and 
 before she had freed the child from his chair, the 
 doctor came over to her and held out his hand. 
 
 " I did not know that it was Allan Norberry's 
 daughter who welcomed me this afternoon," he 
 said, as if deprecating her pardon for his igno- 
 rance. " Your father, Miss Jessie, was my kind- 
 est and best friend. His daughter will not refuse 
 me her trust and confidence ? " 
 
 A pair of soft brown eyes were quickly lifted 
 to the doctor's face, and a sweet, tremulous voice 
 s^aid : 
 
 " I beg pardon. I did not know you were papa's 
 friend. To have been his friend is the surest
 
 16 A PEEP AT NEWBURY PARSONAGE. 
 
 passport to his daughter's favor. '\ Jessie did not 
 notice that her aunt had quietly taken Bertie 
 away, as with regained self-possession she added, 
 " I am always happy to meet any one who knew 
 papa; for I remember so little of him myself." 
 A few moments later she was listening with rapt 
 attention to their visitor's account of his first 
 meeting with her father. 
 
 "It was in the fall of 18 ; I remember the 
 day perfectly : fifteen years ago, though it does 
 not seem so long as that," said the doctor thought- 
 fully. 
 
 " I had gone abroad to continue my studies after 
 completing my university course, and among other 
 letters of introduction given me by friends at 
 home, was one to your father. I met him at 
 Brunn, and we were together on the Continent 
 four months. He was then compiling his great 
 historical work, and I had a good opportunity to 
 learn something of his literary methods, as well 
 as the extent of his researches. Nothing seemed 
 to escape his observation, and his clear insight 
 and mental grasp of every subject to which he 
 gave his thought, made him a royal companion 
 and friend.
 
 A PEEP AT NEWBURY PARSONAGE. 1 7 
 
 " The few months I spent with Allan Norberry 
 gave my mind its greatest stimulus, and whatever 
 I have accomplished since, I owe in a large meas- 
 ure to his advice and encouragement. It was just 
 at that time in my life when the temptation was 
 great to throw off a studious habit, and find in 
 travel only the change and amusement to which a 
 thoroughly indolent temperament exposed me. 
 
 " So you see, Miss Jessie, I have good reason to 
 remember such a friend, and to find pleasure in 
 meeting his daughter, who, for her honored father's 
 sake, must hold a high place in my regard." 
 
 " You are very kind, and I shall never forget 
 that you were papa's friend. I am constantly 
 meeting people who seem to have known him bet- 
 ter than I, his child, did," was Jessie's naive reply. 
 At this moment her uncle entered the room, and 
 their conversation was interrupted. 
 
 Jessie had lost her mother when a mere babe, 
 and her father's profession had kept him most of 
 the time abroad. She had now and then caught 
 brief glimpses of him when his work had brought 
 him home, but so seldom and short had these 
 visits been as hardly to establish a connection in 
 her childish mind.
 
 1 8 A PEEP AT NEWBURY PARSONAGE. 
 
 "Why was Fate so cruel as to rob me of my 
 father before I learned to know him ? " had been 
 her lament for the last three years. That she had 
 not really known him she first realized when the 
 news of his death reached her. And now it was 
 not only his loss that she mourned, but the years 
 which had parted them. 
 
 The lecture delivered by Doctor Forney before 
 the Newbury Lyceum was long remembered by 
 those who heard it. The speaker's graceful oratory 
 and polished rhetoric probably added not a little to 
 its effect upon his audience ; but his theme had been 
 happily chosen, and in paying his own tribute to 
 "The men whom our country should honor," the 
 doctor proved that though he might not be en- 
 tirely destitute of the egotism natural to one so 
 popular and petted as himself, he could still appre- 
 ciate the virtues and talents of others. 
 
 The graceful and tender tribute that night pub- 
 licly paid her father's memory, Jessie Norberry 
 would never forget ; nor would she ever again 
 think otherwise than kindly of the man who held 
 him in such grateful remembrance. 
 
 In walking home that evening through the elm- 
 shaded streets of old Newbury with the doctor for
 
 A PEEP AT NEWBURY PARSONAGE. 1 9 
 
 her escort, Jessie was moved to tell him what a 
 rare intellectual treat his lecture had been to her- 
 self, and to thank him for the kind and apprecia- 
 tive words he had spoken of her dead father. 
 
 " I wish I could make you understand, Miss Jes- 
 sie, what an inspiration his grand, noble character 
 was to me," the doctor returned, and then was 
 silent. 
 
 After this neither spoke for several moments ; 
 Jessie could not trust herself to do so, and the 
 doctor seemed absorbed in thought. 
 
 When the silence was broken between them it 
 was by his asking how long she had been living in 
 Newbury. 
 
 " Since I left school two years ago," was Jessie's 
 brief rejoinder. She was hoping that the doctor 
 would go on to particularize in regard to her 
 father's work ; for anything connected with this 
 subject had a rare fascination for her ; but he did 
 not, and presently the conversation drifted into a 
 different channel. 
 
 The doctor proved himself to be well up in the 
 annals of the historic old town, and his evident 
 interest in it prompted Jessie to telling him inci- 
 dents both humorous and pathetic, of its inhabi-
 
 2O A PEEP AT NEWBURY PARSONAGE. 
 
 tants, till she forgot that her companion was the 
 august Doctor Forney, and found herself talking 
 with him quite as if he were an old friend. 
 
 " Aunty was right : ' First impressions are not 
 always reliable,' and I will not be so hasty in judg- 
 ing any one again," was her thought as she laid 
 her head upon her pillow that night, feeling her- 
 self richer in the friendship of the man whom a 
 few hours before she had (in thought, at least) 
 dubbed a selfish egotist.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 JESSIE IN BOSTON. 
 
 BOSTON COMMON was in all the glory of 
 its October coloring a few weeks later, 
 when Jessie found herself, one bright morning, on 
 the familiar mall which she had traversed daily for 
 a number of years on her way to and from school. 
 It seemed as if the same nursemaids and babies 
 were out for their airing, and the identical boys 
 tearing down the mall with a " Hip, hurrah ! " as in 
 the old days. There at least was the very same 
 apple woman where she had used to stop, and for 
 her pennies pick the reddest fruit on the old 
 woman's stand, and whom she now passed with a 
 cheery " Good-morning ! " 
 
 " Everybody is in just the same old hurry. 
 One's blood does circulate faster where there is so 
 much going on," was her thought, as the charm of 
 the great stirring city made itself felt in her 
 pulses and her quickened step. 
 
 " Good-morning, Miss Jessie ! This is a sur-
 
 22 JESSIE IN BOSTON. 
 
 prise." It was Doctor Forney who spoke, his face 
 alight with pleasure as he grasped the hand Jessie 
 extended to him. 
 
 " I am ever so glad to meet you, Doctor, for I 
 have hardly seen a familiar face this morning," was 
 the frank return. 
 
 While relieving her of her hand-bag and parcels, 
 the doctor inquired for her Newbury friends, and 
 how long she had been in the city. 
 
 " I came up yesterday, on a shopping trip, and 
 have been running about all the morning trying to 
 match some lace for Aunt Helen. I expect she 
 will be in despair when I tell her that Brussels 
 point is passe, and that thread only is au fait." 
 Despite her gay tone, a shade of annoyance crossed 
 Jessie's face when she remembered her non-success 
 in this errand. 
 
 " If you are trying to find old lace you should 
 have my sister Harriet with you ; she has a won- 
 derful faculty for unearthing all such relics," was 
 the doctor's smiling rejoinder. 
 
 " I wish she had been with me this morning, 
 then, to at least have defended my poor sample 
 from the contemptuous glances it has met from 
 shopmen. One would think that old-fashioned
 
 JESSIE IN BOSTON. 23 
 
 lace had been tabooed by good society," said Jes- 
 sie, with piquant earnestness. 
 
 The doctor laughed, and suggested that perhaps 
 her aunt might find existence possible without 
 Brussels point, inquired for that lady's health, 
 spoke of his pleasant visit at the parsonage, and 
 then casually mentioned the fact that he was on 
 his way to Music Hall to procure tickets for the 
 concert that afternoon. 
 
 "Why, that is just where I am going, but I am 
 sure I should have forgotten it. The box office 
 was not open when I came by this morning, so I 
 left buying my tickets till I got through with my 
 shopping. I am visiting my Aunt Wilson," Jessie 
 continued, "and she is to go with me to the con- 
 cert, so I hope I have not put off getting my 
 tickets till the best seats are all gone. Aunty's 
 lace has driven everything else out of my mind." 
 
 "No, I think we shall be in season," returned 
 the doctor ; but they quickened their pace, which 
 had been a leisurely one. 
 
 The doctor was right, for on making application 
 for tickets he secured four seats in the best part 
 of the house, congratulating himself on being able 
 to get them together, as he wished Jessie to meet
 
 24 JESSIE IN BOSTON. 
 
 his sister, who would be with him. This settled, 
 the doctor proposed that Jessie should go with 
 him to see a picture which was then on exhibition 
 at one of the studios. " It is one of the greatest 
 pictures of the day, and you must not miss seeing 
 it," he said, with the enthusiasm of a connoisseur 
 in such matters. 
 
 When they reached the gallery, it so happened 
 that the artist himself was there, and as he was a 
 personal friend of the doctor's Jessie had the pleas- 
 ure of an introduction to one of the famous men 
 of the day, as well as the satisfaction of hearing 
 from his own lips such a description of his picture 
 as only an artist can give. 
 
 " I have a fancy," said Jessie, when she and the 
 doctor had again reached the street, " that a great 
 picture, or any other great work, has been the 
 growth of generations. I am sure that Mr. J.'s 
 ancestors must have been painters, even though 
 they may not have touched brush to canvas ; their 
 love and appreciation of the beautiful has at last 
 found a full expression through him." 
 
 " You may be right, Miss Jessie, and if so we 
 probably jostle in our every -day walk more than 
 one 'mute inglorious Milton,' whose songs are
 
 JESSIE IN BOSTON. 25 
 
 growing for posterity, and whose lips in the ful- 
 ness of time will be unsealed. Not an unpleasant 
 thought," continued the doctor, "since it holds 
 out the hope of immortality to all creative, aspir- 
 ing souls." 
 
 " Yes ; and that there are so many such souls 
 who spend the brief space allotted them here 
 striving to work out their high ideals, and who 
 never in Time, at least see their conceptions 
 fulfilled, is, I think, but a proof that my theory 
 is correct," returned Jessie, " else why is it that 
 the longing to achieve something so possesses 
 humanity ? " 
 
 The doctor felt he had never realized the beauty 
 and pathos of brown eyes until he met the pair 
 now raised to his face. 
 
 " May not the answer to your question lie in the 
 fact that humanity is made in the likeness of the 
 great Creator?" he asked, with a kindly smile. 
 
 "Yes; it must be so," was the thoughtful re- 
 sponse. "And perfect as He made His work, so 
 that He Himself said that it was good, He has still 
 left something for His children to achieve." 
 
 A moment later they had reached Mrs. Wilson's 
 door, where the doctor took leave of Jessie, de-
 
 26 JESSIE IN BOSTON. 
 
 clining her invitation to go in and see her aunt, as 
 he had the prospect of so soon making that lady's 
 acquaintance. 
 
 "A sweet, interesting girl, worthy to be her 
 father's daughter," was the doctor's thought as he 
 kept on his way. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson was Jessie's sole living relative on 
 the maternal side, and the last three years, while 
 in Boston attending school, she had lived with this 
 aunt ; so the old West End house was quite as 
 much home to her as the parsonage at Newbury. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson, who was a widow, and a confirmed 
 invalid, had become very much attached to her 
 bright, lively niece, and would have gladly kept 
 her after she left school ; but her uncle, John Nor- 
 berry, who was her guardian, had not so willed ; 
 for the constant society of a sick and nervous wo- 
 man, he felt was unsuited to a nature as sensitive 
 as Jessie's, so, on leaving school, she had gone to 
 Newbury. 
 
 This change had been a welcome one to the 
 girl, for during certain vacations spent at the par- 
 sonage she had become very fond of her gentle 
 Aunt Kitty, and the wide-awake cousins, Allan and 
 Roger, who made life at the parsonage a perpetual
 
 JESSIE IN BOSTON. 2/ 
 
 holiday to her after her Aunt Wilson's quiet, 
 stately home. 
 
 But we left Jessie standing at this relative's 
 door. She had that morning, greatly to her sur- 
 prise, succeeded in gaining her aunt's consent to 
 attend,, the concert, for which she had since ob- 
 tained tickets. But Mrs. Wilson had made the 
 proviso that she should not stay through the per- 
 formance if she found it too much for her. 
 
 " Oh ! but you will not, Aunty ; who. ever heard 
 of one of Thomas' concerts being too much ? That 
 is not an ill to which either flesh or spirit is heir," 
 had been the girl's cheery rejoinder. 
 
 But on reaching home Jessie found her aunt not 
 a little depressed in contemplation of what she 
 had promised to undergo. 
 
 " I don't know how I am to stand the fatigue : 
 I was certainly crazy to think of such a thing as 
 going to a concert. Here I have not been out of 
 the house for weeks, and I don't know when I 
 have sat up three hours at a time," she said, with 
 the querulousness natural to one weakened by in- 
 action and confinement, rather than disease. 
 
 It took all Jessie's powers of persuasion to keep 
 her aunt up to her promise, for her weak nerves
 
 28 JESSIE IN BOSTON. 
 
 proved unequal even to the work of dressing, and 
 when the carriage was announced she declared her- 
 self unable to sit up. But nevertheless two hours 
 later she was leaving Music Hall with the crowd, 
 apparently none the worse for the further fatigue 
 she had endured. , 
 
 Jessie had found the doctor's sister a delight- 
 fully bright and cheery little body. With much 
 womanly grace and sweetness, there was in Har- 
 riet Forney the simplicity and freshness of the 
 child. While she and Jessie were making rapid 
 strides toward an acquaintance in their exit from 
 the hall, the doctor was piloting Mrs. Wilson 
 through the crowd to her carriage. 
 
 " I would like to know who that man is. I saw 
 him in the hall this afternoon ; his face is familiar, 
 but I cannot place him." Doctor Forney was 
 standing beside the carriage, talking with Jessie, 
 while waiting for her aunt to take leave of friends 
 who had pressed forward to speak with her. 
 
 Jessie turned as the doctor spoke, and saw a 
 gentleman who was well known to her, coming 
 down Winter Place ; the next moment he had also 
 seen her, and, with a courteous gesture, raised his 
 hat.
 
 JESSIE IN BOSTON. 2Q 
 
 "Ah! an acquaintance?" the doctor said, hav- 
 ing seen the recognition. 
 
 " Yes ; he is one of our Newbury men, Mr. Car- 
 rol Doctor Melville Carrol's son," was Jessie's 
 reply. 
 
 " So that is Doctor Carrol's son ? He is a splen- 
 did specimen of a man, physically," was the doc- 
 tor's response, following with his eye the receding 
 figure, perfect in proportion, and towering head 
 and shoulders above the crowd. 
 
 " Then Doctor Carrol is living in Newbury ? 
 He was quite a famous surgeon at one time. 
 What have I heard about him of late? Was it 
 that his health had broken down ? " 
 
 "Quite likely; for that is the case," returned 
 Jessie. " He was obliged to give up practice on 
 that account, I believe." 
 
 "Your beautiful old town must afford him a 
 delightful haven of refuge," was the doctor's next 
 comment. 
 
 " I am afraid he has hardly found it that," said 
 Jessie, and then checked herself, for the words had 
 unwittingly slipped from her tongue. Seeing that 
 her companion looked surprised, she added in ex- 
 planation,
 
 3O JESSIE IN BOSTON. 
 
 "Doctor Carrol's mind has seemed to be affected 
 of late, and his family are very anxious about him, 
 though I think he must be better since his son is 
 here ; for Milton Carrol seldom leaves his father." 
 
 While Jessie was speaking, Miss Forney, who 
 had a moment before stepped into a store to ex- 
 ecute some small commission, rejoined them, and 
 rallied her brother upon his extended adieus. 
 
 The doctor had not noticed that Mrs. Wilson's 
 friends had left her, but he now gave the order to 
 her coachman, and, with a cordial handshake, was 
 gone. 
 
 " I supposed Doctor Forney was an older man," 
 was Mrs. Wilson's comment as their carriage 
 turned into Tremont Street, and she caught the 
 last glimpse of the man who had shown her so 
 much courteous attention that afternoon. Then it 
 first occurred to her to ask her niece where she 
 had made the doctor's acquaintance. 
 
 On learning that she had met him in her uncle's 
 house, Mrs. Wilson evidently felt it was incumbent 
 upon her to further an acquaintance which had the 
 sanction of the girl's guardian, for she said plain- 
 tively, 
 
 " I suppose I ought to invite him to dinner
 
 JESSIE IN BOSTON. 3! 
 
 while you are here ; but I don't see how I am to do 
 it with my wretched health." 
 
 If her aunt had at the moment proposed a trip 
 to Europe, Jessie would not have been much more 
 surprised than to hear her talk of inviting to din- 
 ner a comparative stranger ; for it was very long 
 since old friends, even, had been entertained in 
 this way in the Wilson mansion. 
 
 "What made you think of that, Aunty? You 
 are not called upon to do anything of the kind ; 
 besides, I fancy that the doctor is not a diner-out. 
 He strikes me as a man who would hold in con- 
 tempt the small conventionalities of fashionable 
 life." 
 
 " He does not strike me in any such way. The 
 very cut of his coat proclaims him a devotee to 
 fashion, rather than a despiser of it," returned her 
 aunt, regarding her critically. She was wondering 
 whether this seeming indifference on Jessie's part 
 was real or assumed. Did she indeed feel no in- 
 terest in the distinguished man whose polite atten- 
 tions had so lately made her the cynosure of all 
 eyes ? 
 
 " Oh ! his tailor only is responsible for the cut of 
 his coat. I doubt if Doctor Forney troubles him-
 
 32 JESSIE IN BOSTON. 
 
 self much about such prosaic matters," was Jessie's 
 laughing rejoinder. 
 
 When her aunt spoke, the girl's thoughts had 
 been with the doctor's sister, whose companionship 
 she coveted for the invalid. If she could have the 
 society of a person like Harriet Forney it would be 
 better than any tonic to her weakened nerves. 
 
 " I wish you and Miss Forney could become 
 better friends, Aunty. She is such a bright, 
 cheery person. I cannot fancy her ever dull or 
 blue. I don't wonder the doctor calls her his sun- 
 beam. With such a sister to keep his home, it is 
 no wonder he never married." 
 
 "You speak as if he were an old man. He can 
 scarcely have seen thirty-five," and Mrs. Wilson 
 added, in the querulous tone which had become 
 habitual to her, " as to his sister, I don't see that 
 she deserves very great praise for being cheerful. 
 Who would not be so with her perfect health?" 
 
 Jessie had not lived for months in her aunt's 
 house without learning to understand and humor 
 her moods, and she dropped the subject here. 
 
 " I haven't seen you look so bright for a long 
 time as you have this afternoon, Aunty; perhaps 
 you shut yourself up too much. It was not so
 
 JESSIE IN BOSTON. 33 
 
 hard as you thought, after all, was it ? At least, 
 you don't feel any worse ?" 
 
 "You don't know anything about it, child. I 
 haven't been free from pain a moment this after- 
 noon. Of course I felt obliged to keep up," was 
 the invalid's plaintive response, as she sank wearily 
 back among the carriage cushions, apparently re- 
 membering for the first time her invalid condition ; 
 and Jessie looking out of the window, wondered if 
 an earthquake or any other convulsion of nature 
 could shake her aunt's conviction that it was in- 
 cumbent upon her to always sustain this character.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A MUDDY ADVENTURE. 
 
 ELM BROOK FARM was the home of the 
 Carrols. The place took its name from 
 the noble elm-trees which here shaded for nearly 
 a quarter of a mile, the public highway ; and also 
 from the brook which ran directly through the 
 place. 
 
 The house was a large two-story brick one, with 
 an ell and ample outbuildings, while a wide sweep 
 of lawn in front graced the approach from the 
 street. 
 
 Five years before our story opens this place 
 had been for sale ; but it was scarcely a month in 
 the market when it was generally known that it 
 had been bought by a retired physician, and a few 
 weeks later Doctor Carrol and his family came to 
 Newbury, strangers to every one in the town, and 
 took possession of the house and acres of Elm 
 Brook Farm. 
 
 It was quite apparent from the first that Doctor 
 34
 
 A MUDDY ADVENTURE. 35 
 
 Carrol did not care to meet his neighbors, and the 
 impression had soon gone abroad that his object in 
 coming to Newbury was to live a quiet, secluded 
 life. Doubtless his silent, preoccupied manner had 
 given rise to this impression ; for he invariably 
 ignored or failed to hear the neighborly salutation 
 which had at first been accorded him ; and when 
 he had been two years in Newbury he had scarcely 
 spoken with a dozen persons. 
 
 As Elm Brook Farm came within the limits of 
 his parish, John Norberry took occasion soon to call 
 upon the Carrols, notwithstanding that they had 
 not shown themselves at church, and that reports 
 of the doctor's exclusiveness and taciturnity had 
 reached him. 
 
 The minister had been unfortunate in timing 
 his first call, for the doctor happened to be out. 
 Mrs. Carrol had received him very cordially, how- 
 ever, and expressed regret that her husband was 
 not at home. She spoke of his disposition to 
 avoid strangers, a tendency which she said he had 
 seemed to develop since coming to Newbury. 
 
 The doctor's wife was a lady of fine presence, 
 and evidently possessed no small degree of culture ; 
 but there was a certain reserve of speech and
 
 36 A MUDDY ADVENTURE. 
 
 manner that seemed to preclude any degree of 
 familiarity. 
 
 On his second call John Norberry again failed 
 to see the doctor, who this time was at home, but 
 excused himself on the plea of not being well. 
 Mrs. Carrol apologized when delivering her hus- 
 band's message to the minister. He seemed to 
 shrink from seeing all visitors, a fact which she 
 deplored, but attributed entirely to his state of 
 health. 
 
 But notwithstanding that five years had now 
 passed, and the minister had frequently met Doc- 
 tor Carrol in his home, he did not feel that he 
 was really acquainted with him. With the doctor's 
 son, however, it had been quite different, for, be- 
 fore many months had passed, Milton Carrol and 
 the minister had become the best of friends. But 
 while the young man talked with him freely on 
 every other subject, John Norberry could not fail 
 to notice his evident reticence in speaking of his 
 father. 
 
 When Milton Carrol first came to Newbury, 
 Rumor said he was just fresh from college, where 
 he had received well-earned laurels ; but certain 
 it was he had at once taken hold of farming in such
 
 A MUDDY ADVENTURE. 37 
 
 an earnest and practical way as showed a decided 
 taste for it, if not a previous knowledge. 
 
 The young farmers in his neighborhood had for 
 a time held aloof from him, jeering at his fine 
 broadcloth, and air of superiority, while more than 
 one remark came to his ears calculated to annoy 
 him ; but he had gone his way apparently unruffled, 
 treating every one courteously, though seeking in- 
 timacy with none. 
 
 The purchase of Elm Brook Farm had been 
 made in the fall, and that first winter Milton Car- 
 rol had taken frequent trips away from Newbury, 
 a fact which had led his neighbors to suppose him 
 fickle, and little calculated for the life of a farmer. 
 But when the spring opened, greatly to their sur- 
 prise, he had donned working clothes, and gone 
 into the field with his men, where he soon proved 
 that he could lend a hand, as well as direct his 
 work. Now it was generally conceded by his 
 townsmen that there was not a more prosperous, 
 or better managed farm in the county, than Elm 
 Brook. 
 
 But in the meantime Rumor had been busy 
 with the doctor's fair name, and many people in 
 Newbury now believed that he had come to this
 
 38 A MUDDY ADVENTURE. 
 
 quiet town to hide disgrace. In housecleaning 
 time Mrs. Carrol had been in the habit of hiring, 
 to help their old servant, a woman who worked 
 in this way in many of the families in Newbury. 
 Unlike some of her class, Mary Manson's veracity 
 was unquestioned ; so when she affirmed that all 
 was not as it should be with the doctor, and that, 
 to her knowing, his family were fearful he would 
 divulge something which seemed at times to trou- 
 ble him greatly, those who listened to her felt she 
 had good ground for making such a statement. 
 
 It was singular how soon suspicion was fanned 
 into a flame, and how ready people were to say 
 that the doctor had always seemed to them like 
 a man who was bearing the burden of an uncon- 
 fessed crime. Now a reason was found for his 
 shunning society, and secluding himself as he had 
 ever since coming among them. 
 
 He had broken some law of God and man, and 
 was hiding himself among strangers, in the vain 
 hope that his sin would not find him out. 
 
 When these accusations reached Milton Carrol's 
 ears, as they finally did, he was very much dis- 
 turbed, but insisted that they could only have 
 arisen from words which his father himself had
 
 A MUDDY ADVENTURE. 39 
 
 dropped : for, since his mind had been affected, he 
 had entertained strange, sad fancies about himself. 
 
 It was something like a month after Jessie's visit 
 to the city that she one morning informed her 
 Aunt Kitty of her intention to go to Newbury 
 Hill Farm to spend the day. This was at the 
 other end of the town, and fully three miles from 
 the parsonage. 
 
 Aunt Judith Lucas, owner and manager of these 
 acres, was very fond of the minister's bright, win- 
 some niece who always brought her a breeze from 
 the outside world, and the good woman's odorous 
 pantries and teeming orchards v/ere always at Jes- 
 sie's disposal. 
 
 "Aunt Judith said she would have some grape 
 juice for me if I came this month, and I have 
 promised Mary Allen a bottle for her mother. 
 Besides, I want to see Aunt Judith, who will won- 
 der what has become of me." 
 
 " But how will you get to Newbury Hill, child ? 
 Your uncle has gone to Westfield with the buggy, 
 and will not be back before night," was her Aunt 
 Kitty's reply. 
 
 " Oh ! I shall walk. It will be just fun, such a 
 clear, bracing day. But about getting home I
 
 4O A MUDDY ADVENTURE. 
 
 had not thought of that." It had just occurred to 
 Jessie that there would not be so much fun walking 
 back laden with the spoils she expected to bring 
 with her. 
 
 " If Uncle John cannot come for me to-night, all 
 is I shall have to stay till morning, when James 
 will be coming to town, and will bring me," Jessie 
 added, after a moment's reflection. 
 
 " Had you better try to walk ? " was her aunt's 
 gentle remonstrance. " The heavy rains we have 
 had lately are sure to have washed out the road in 
 Plover's Gully. To-morrow you can have the 
 buggy." 
 
 " I wanted to be at home to-morrow, to help you 
 entertain Miss Molly Westcott and her mother." 
 
 " O, yes ! I had forgotten they were coming. 
 Mrs. Westcott is sure to feel slighted if neither 
 you nor Aunt Helen are visible." 
 
 " Well, Aunty is sure not to show herself down- 
 stairs to-morrow," replied Jessie ; " so I had better 
 go to Newbury Hill to-day. I really ought not to 
 put off my visit any longer." 
 
 Half an hour later Jessie was equipped for her 
 walk in a dark, close-fitting suit, and a pair of stout 
 boots whose soles, she jestingly affirmed, would
 
 A MUDDY ADVENTURE. 4! 
 
 allow her to wade dry shod through all the brooks 
 in town. 
 
 But Jessie was to prove that it would have been 
 wiser to have taken her aunt's advice, for on reach- 
 ing Plover's Gully, a low-lying part of the road 
 which crossed a wide piece of marsh, she found 
 that lady's prediction fully verified. 
 
 " I did not dream it would be like this ; I shall 
 have to go back, after all." It was not till she 
 found herself sinking deeper and deeper at every 
 step, that she came to this sensible resolve, seeing 
 that it would be the veriest folly to venture farther 
 into such a bog. 
 
 So intent had she been on her own predicament 
 as not to notice that it was shared by any one else, 
 till, raising her eyes, she saw just ahead two per- 
 sons who were evidently in a worse plight than 
 herself. She was presently sure that one of them 
 could be no other than Milton Carrol ; but what 
 was he doing ? With whom was he struggling ? 
 Was it his father ? Yes ; Jessie could now hear 
 the old man's voice : 
 
 " Let me go, Milton. Why do you try to detain 
 me ? I am not mad, as you think ; but conceal- 
 ment is killing me."
 
 42 A MUDDY ADVENTURE. 
 
 Should she try to go to them, or not ? Evi- 
 dently the doctor was having one of the bad spells 
 of which she had lately heard, when his family 
 found it hard to control him. The thought that 
 Milton Carrol might be annoyed to have her come 
 upon him in this plight, for a moment made her 
 hesitate, the next, she determined to go to his 
 assistance ; so, putting aside all regard for conse- 
 quences to herself, she was presently within a few 
 feet of them. 
 
 " Can I help you, Mr. Carrol ? " she called. 
 
 Taken entirely by surprise, as he had not known 
 that any one was near, Milton Carrol turned, re- 
 leasing his hold of his father as he did so. 
 
 " O, Miss Jessie ! do not come any further, 
 pray," he cried, realizing the sorry condition in 
 which she might presently find herself. 
 
 " The mud is not quite so deep here as where 
 you are," she called back in reply, as if she saw 
 only the fact that they were mired. She would 
 give him a chance to ask her help at least, since 
 she could go for aid if he wished. 
 
 The sight of Jessie venturing into this slough of 
 despond had made Milton Carrol for a moment 
 lose his self-possession, and he had let go his hold
 
 A MUDDY ADVENTURE. 43 
 
 of his father, who took instant advantage of his 
 freedom. Had it not been for the mud which 
 clogged his feet, the doctor would probably have 
 gotten away ; but as it was, his son had him again 
 in his grasp before he had taken the second step. 
 Then it was that the doctor turned and made a 
 piteous appeal to Jessie. 
 
 "Help me, Miss Jessie, to get away from my 
 son. He says that I am mad, but I assure you I 
 am as sane as yourself. I am a penitent man, and 
 would give myself up to justice, for I am a mur- 
 derer. Would to God that I were only mad." 
 The old man's voice had risen to a wail. 
 
 "Where do you want to go, Doctor Carrol?" 
 Jessie asked, as if it were only reasonable his 
 wishes in this matter should be regarded. Per- 
 haps it was the way she asked the question quite 
 as much as the question itself which had such a 
 remarkable effect upon the doctor ; for the tense 
 lines disappeared instantly from his face, and there 
 was nothing in his voice to remind one of the 
 agony of passion which had been there a moment 
 before, when he answered, 
 
 " I was on my way to Boston, for I must go 
 there in order to give myself up to justice."
 
 44 A MUDDY ADVENTURE. 
 
 " But look, Doctor Carrol ; see how muddy your 
 clothes are! Wouldn't it be better to go home 
 and change them first ? You don't want to be 
 seen in Boston in such a plight as this," Jessie 
 said, pointing out to him the splashes of mud 
 which disfigured his whole person. Happily, she 
 had created the diversion in his thoughts which 
 she wished, as he seemed to realize the force of 
 this argument, and was regarding his dress with 
 dismay. 
 
 Seeing the advantage she had gained, Jessie 
 was quick to follow it up. 
 
 " I was on my way to Newbury Hill," she said, 
 " but I shall have to go home and wait till the 
 walking is better." And then a happy thought 
 suggesting itself, " If you will give me your arm, 
 Doctor, I think together we shall get out of this 
 bog better than alone." 
 
 A few moments later, no one meeting the two 
 would have supposed the doctor less sane than his 
 companion ; for his chivalrous instinct had at once 
 responded to Jessie's appeal, and he was presently 
 helping her over the worst places in the road, her 
 safe conduct out of the mud seemingly his sole 
 consideration.
 
 A MUDDY ADVENTURE. 45 
 
 Milton Carrol had been struck with amazement 
 at the girl's coolness and courage in asking his 
 father for his arm, but further than a look eloquent 
 of gratitude on his part, no communication had 
 passed between them. 
 
 His first feeling had been one of discomfiture 
 that Jessie Norberry should be a witness of his un- 
 fortunate position. She was the last person in the 
 town whom he would have chosen to meet just 
 then, or to whom he would have looked for assist- 
 ance ; for he had often heard her sallies of wit, and 
 knew her aptitude for seeing the ludicrous side of 
 every situation ; but he had yet to learn that Jes- 
 sie's mirth was never turned against the unfortu- 
 nate. 
 
 He felt now that her kindness, tact and good 
 sense had on this occasion at least saved him from 
 a painful dilemma, since he had used every argu- 
 ment he could think of to win his father from his 
 purpose, and when Jessie came up it was just a 
 contest of strength between them, in which his 
 muscles could not have much longer held out 
 against the force born of frenzy. 
 
 He could but admire the graceful tact with which 
 Jessie led his father's mind away from the exciting
 
 46 A MUDDY ADVENTURE. 
 
 subject, and then with lively chat and jest occupied 
 and amused him. 
 
 As Milton Carrol listened to the low sweet 
 voice and musical laugh which had in it Nature's 
 own echo, he realized the peculiar charm which 
 this girl had always exercised over himself, and he 
 no longer wondered that his father had yielded to 
 the witching grace which he had found so captivat- 
 ing. He had always felt that she was different 
 from other girls, and now he had had proof of it, 
 he thought ; for where was the other girl of his 
 acquaintance who would have so admirably con- 
 ducted herself in such an emergency ? 
 
 On reaching Elm Brook Farm Jessie tried to ex- 
 cuse herself from going in, on the plea that she 
 was not in trim to make a call, but the doctor 
 insisted upon it. He evidently was not disposed 
 to lose her companionship because he had got 
 home, and as symptoms of excitement were at 
 once apparent in manner and speech when he 
 found himself likely to do so, Jessie saw it would 
 not be well to cross him. 
 
 Mrs. Carrol had evidently been on the lookout 
 for her husband, for she met them at the door, 
 and seemed greatly relieved at the apparently pa-
 
 A MUDDY ADVENTURE. 47 
 
 cific condition in which he had returned. It took 
 her but a moment to understand the situation, 
 and then she too joined her entreaties to his that 
 Jessie should come in. Our heroine had never 
 been at Elm Brook Farm, and though feeling that 
 a call now was most inopportune under the cir- 
 cumstances, there seemed nothing else to do if 
 she would not provoke a return of the nervous 
 excitement she had just used her best efforts to 
 subdue. 
 
 Mrs. Carrol seemed gratified at her compliance, 
 and at once led the way to the family sitting-room, 
 making an effort to appear at ease ; but Jessie had 
 seen the glance exchanged between mother and 
 son, and knew that the wife's anxiety was at the 
 moment paramount to every other feeling. 
 
 On entering, however, the girl's wit did not 
 desert her, for no sooner was the doctor safely 
 within the house, than she made a lively charge 
 upon her bemudded boots, gayly asking Mrs. 
 Carrol how she could with equanimity receive such 
 dirty people into her house. Then seeing the doc- 
 tor was about to seat himself, she became suddenly 
 concerned for the welfare of the chair. 
 
 " O, doctor ! you will never spoil that pretty
 
 48 A MUDDY ADVENTURE. 
 
 chair by sitting down in that coat," she cried, at 
 the same time giving his wife a glance which the 
 latter was quick to interpret. 
 
 " Miss Jessie I know will excuse you, father, 
 while you come and change your coat ; for really 
 it is not fit to sit down in." The doctor yielded 
 reluctantly to his wife's suggestion, but presently 
 he was induced to leave the room with her for a 
 change in his apparel. 
 
 The moment the door closed upon them, Jessie, 
 who had not ceased to feel herself de trop since 
 her entrance, seized the opportunity to take her 
 leave. 
 
 " Mr. Carrol, I must ask you to make my 
 apologies to your mother, but I am sure I had best 
 go before your father returns," she said, on finding 
 herself alone with the doctor's son. 
 
 " Perhaps you are right, Miss Jessie ; I appre- 
 ciate the unpleasantness of the situation for you, 
 and your kindness in coming in. You have my 
 heartfelt thanks for what you did for me this 
 afternoon." 
 
 Milton Carrol spoke as if under some powerful 
 restraint, and feeling the delicacy of his position, 
 Jessie returned quickly:
 
 A MUDDY ADVENTURE. 49 
 
 " Oh ! that is not worth speaking of. Any one 
 would have done as much." She would have 
 added " Good-day," when Mr. Carrol interposed. 
 
 " You may count it a small service, Miss Jessie, 
 but I think few young ladies would have faced 
 such an ordeal. I shall never forget that your 
 woman's wit and kindness saved my mother and 
 myself a painful exposure." 
 
 " It is very unfortunate your father should not 
 always be himself. You have my sincerest sym- 
 pathy," Jessie said feelingly. 
 
 " You are more than kind, but excuse my detain- 
 ing you a moment. I want to tax your kindness still 
 farther : please do not think worse of my father 
 for what he said of himself to-day, or for what 
 you may hear others say of him ; for I assure you 
 that a worthier life than he has lived is scarcely 
 possible. I will not deny," he continued, " that 
 there are certain circumstances which seem to tell 
 against him, and which we cannot explain, though 
 we live in hope that the day will come when we 
 can do so, and when we shall be able to clear his 
 name from the foul charge which now rests 
 upon it." 
 
 It was no slight thing to Milton Carrol that his
 
 SO A MUDDY ADVENTURE. 
 
 father's fair fame should be doubted, and when to 
 this was added the affliction of his clouded in- 
 tellect, was it to be wondered at that the inmates 
 of Elm Brook Farm had shut themselves away 
 from those who had no sympathy for them in their 
 trouble ? 
 
 Jessie had not before realized the shadow which 
 rested on this house, or the isolation and loneli- 
 ness of the wife and son whose misfortune had so 
 completely separated them from their neighbors. 
 
 " Mr. Carrol, I will believe nothing of your 
 father unworthy of a good and honorable man," 
 was Jessie's earnest and heartfelt response. "I 
 am grateful for your confidence," she added, "and 
 no one shall ever be the wiser from me for anything 
 I have heard or seen to-day." 
 
 " Thank you ; I felt sure I might trust to your 
 silence," was Mr. Carrol's reply, grasping with a 
 hearty pressure the hand she gave him in parting. 
 
 Jessie's thoughts were occupied with this matter 
 as she retraced her steps homeward. 
 
 " I wonder why Aunt Helen has never called 
 upon Mrs. Carrol. It cannot be for the reason 
 that she is not her social and intellectual equal, 
 which is her usual excuse for not visiting our peo-
 
 A MUDDY ADVENTURE. 51 
 
 pie." Jessie so completely identified herself with 
 her uncle's family, that she always spoke of his 
 parish in this way. She remembered now how 
 completely her aunt had held aloof from the Car- 
 rols, and she was puzzled to account for her doing 
 so, as the parsonage gave little credence to the 
 rumors which were afloat in the community. 
 
 " Aunty shall go and see Mrs. Carrol. It is a 
 shame for people to treat her as they do. She 
 has enough to bear even if we stand by her." Jes- 
 sie's sympathies had been greatly excited toward 
 the doctor's family by what she had seen and heard 
 this afternoon, and she resolved that hereafter the 
 parsonage should take no neutral ground toward 
 the Carrols. 
 
 It was a long time before she heard the last of 
 her getting bogged in Plover's Gully ; for her cousin 
 Allan had heard of it in some way, and perhaps 
 for the reason that Jessie herself had nothing to 
 say about it, he fancied it teased her to have the 
 matter mentioned ; so, boy-like, he reminded her of 
 it on every occasion. 
 
 But Jessie was not likely soon to forget the cir- 
 cumstance, for it had made too deep an impression 
 upon her mind to be easily effaced. Perhaps for
 
 52 A MUDDY ADVENTURE. 
 
 the reason that she could speak of the experience 
 to no one, it occupied more of her thoughts. 
 Somehow there seemed a horrible fascination in 
 the remembrance strive as hard as she would to 
 put it away, Memory was constantly evoking the 
 anguished ravings of the unfortunate man, till her 
 dreams were often haunted by them.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE LETTER. 
 
 DOCTOR CARROL was not seen abroad 
 again for the winter ; and before spring 
 opened, what had previously been but suspicion, 
 had grown into a direct charge. 
 
 The doctor had committed some crime, from 
 the consequences of which his wife and son were 
 striving to screen him. 
 
 Jessie frequently heard this said in one way and 
 another, but always treated it as too preposterous 
 for credence, while her heart went out in sym- 
 pathy to those who could neither defend them- 
 selves, nor him who was dearer to them than even 
 their own good name. 
 
 Mrs. Carrol and her son need not try to make it 
 appear that the charges which the doctor brought 
 against himself were but the vagaries of a dis- 
 eased mind ; his neighbors were sure they knew 
 better. Why had he always shut himself away 
 from every one ? If he were insane now, he had 
 
 53
 
 54 THE LETTER. 
 
 not been five years before, when he had first come 
 among them. No ; it was only when remorse for 
 his crime had prompted him to confess it, that his 
 family had declared him insane. 
 
 John Norberry was not unaware of the feeling 
 in the town, and while it troubled him greatly, he 
 found himself unable to say or do anything to 
 stay it. 
 
 Of what avail was it for him to remind the doc- 
 tor's accusers of the devoted wife and son who 
 were bearing a double trial under their suspicions 
 and denunciations, since he always received the 
 same answer in one form or another : 
 
 "They deserved to suffer. It was no more than 
 right that they should, since their pride would 
 not bow to the humiliation of having the truth 
 known." 
 
 On one of his calls at Elm Brook Farm, the 
 minister had suggested to Mrs. Carrol that medi- 
 cal treatment might help her husband's case ; for it 
 was a fact often commented upon in the town, that 
 a physician had never been called in, even when 
 the doctor had been at his worst. 
 
 This suggestion, however, was no sooner made 
 than the minister saw that it was not well received.
 
 THE LETTER. 55 
 
 Mrs. Carrol evidently considered it bordering upon 
 interference. For a moment she seemed quite 
 embarrassed, and then with more hauteur than he 
 had ever seen her show, she replied : " Mr. Nor- 
 berry, I think I understand the feeling that moves 
 you to advise me in this matter ; for I am aware of 
 what is said in Newbury. As far as any advice is 
 prompted by regard for my husband, I am grateful 
 for it ; but had we not known that medical treat- 
 ment was entirely unavailing in Doctor Carrol's 
 case, we should never have come here. That rest 
 and quiet are the only agents that can ever restore 
 his overworked nerves, has been the verdict of the 
 first physicians in this country as well as Europe." 
 
 John Norberry did not again attempt to advise 
 Mrs. Carrol, though he sympathized heartily with 
 her in the trouble she was so bravely bearing. 
 
 While the most friendly relations existed be- 
 tween himself and the doctor's son, the latter 
 never in any way alluded to the charges made 
 against them as a family ; and since Milton Carrol 
 was so reticent in this matter, the minister did not 
 invite a confidence which was not freely given. 
 He could but note, however, that the last two 
 years had left their mark upon his young friend,
 
 56 THE LETTER. 
 
 who seemed to have suddenly reached the maturity 
 of middle life, and when they met now it was as 
 those standing on the same level of experience. 
 
 At this time, Elm Brook Farm held but little 
 intercourse with the outside world. The frequent, 
 informal calls of neighbors who had been wont to 
 run in at all times of day, after the fashion of most 
 country neighborhoods, had ceased entirely. Mrs. 
 Carrol for the last two years had not encouraged 
 this kind of caller, for the reason that it confined 
 the doctor to his room, since he was not willing to 
 to see visitors. And lest his freedom of the house 
 should be restricted, his wife shut herself away 
 from the society she might otherwise have had. 
 
 The service that Jessie Norberry had rendered 
 the doctor in bringing him home that afternoon, 
 gained her a warm friend in his wife ; for Mrs. 
 Carrol fully appreciated this act which had pre- 
 vented any publicity being given to her husband's 
 wild purpose. 
 
 A few days later, she had written the girl a 
 graceful note, warmly expressing her gratitude, 
 and in which she begged Jessie to come and see 
 her, making the plea that she had very little 
 society, and was often lonely.
 
 THE LETTER. 57 
 
 Jessie did go, and was so charmed with the ele- 
 gant and agreeable woman that she soon repeated 
 her call. 
 
 And now a cordial welcome always awaited the 
 minister's niece at Elm Brook Farm, where Mrs. 
 Carrol exercised her rare tact and unusual con- 
 versational powers to entertain her young visitor. 
 So it was little wonder that Jessie enjoyed going 
 there, or that she often declared the doctor's wife 
 to be the most delightful lady of her acquaintance. 
 
 She occasionally met Doctor Carrol in his home, 
 and he always seemed glad to see her, often re- 
 maining in the room the whole time of her stay. 
 This was a course so different from what he 
 usually pursued toward visitors, that it was quite 
 noticeable. That the doctor enjoyed her visits 
 was the plea Mrs. Carrol used in urging Jessie to 
 come often. 
 
 She had not been at the farm for some weeks, 
 having heard in the meantime that the doctor was 
 suffering from an unusually severe attack of his 
 malady, and fearing that a visit might be inoppor- 
 tune. When she learned that he was better, she 
 was seized with a fit of compunction for having 
 neglected her friend so long, and took the first
 
 58 THE LETTER. 
 
 opportunity to go and see her. She found Mrs. 
 Carrol more depressed than she had ever seen her. 
 It seemed the doctor's violent symptoms had given 
 place to a settled melancholy, from which it was 
 impossible to rouse him. He appeared disinclined 
 to talk at all ; but when he did it was to mourn 
 his sinful state, in which he fancied himself living 
 under the wrath and curse of God. His disease 
 had apparently taken the form of religious mania ; 
 and this evidently destroyed the hope which his 
 poor wife had before entertained of his ultimate 
 recovery. 
 
 While she was speaking of her fears in this re- 
 spect, the door of the room where she and Jessie 
 were sitting, suddenly opened, and who should 
 enter but the doctor himself. 
 
 "Why, Doctor Carrol!" his wife exclaimed, 
 surprise, almost consternation, depicted on her 
 face ; but a moment later she had recovered her- 
 self, and asked almost naturally, " If he had missed 
 her? or, had he come to see Miss Jessie ? " 
 
 "Both," returned the doctor, smiling, and greet- 
 ing Jessie with his old-time courtesy. 
 
 Certainly no one would have taken him for a 
 demented man. He was dressed with scrupulous
 
 THE LETTER. 59 
 
 care, and was apparently more at his ease than the 
 two whom his appearance had suddenly discon- 
 certed. 
 
 "Do not go yet, Miss Jessie! It is a long time 
 time since you have been here ; stay and spend 
 the afternoon," he urged, when, a few minutes 
 after his entrance, Jessie rose to take her leave ; 
 for she had been not a little embarrassed by his 
 sudden appearance just as his wife had told her that 
 he did not leave his room. Of course his doing 
 so now was but the freak of an unsound mind, and 
 might possibly indicate the approach of another 
 violent attack of his malady. To be sure there 
 was nothing in his appearance to betoken this ; his 
 present mood was certainly a very mild one, but 
 could it be depended upon ? 
 
 These thoughts were passing through Jessie's 
 mind as the doctor spoke. There was nothing to 
 prevent her staying longer, as he seemed to wish 
 it, and Mrs. Carrol's eyes were asking her to humor 
 his whim ; so she made a sort of mental com- 
 promise : she would not go at once, though by re- 
 maining she felt she was subjecting herself to a 
 painful ordeal. 
 
 " There is nothing which necessitates my going
 
 6O THE LETTER. 
 
 at once ; but I shall not be able to remain all the 
 afternoon, as Aunt Kitty has gone out to tea, and 
 I shall have to be at home to look after the chil- 
 dren," she said, resuming her seat. 
 
 The doctor seemed pleased at her compliance, 
 and settled back in his easy-chair as if prepared to 
 enjoy her stay. On her former visits he had gen- 
 erally sat in silence, though not an uninterested 
 listener to what she and his wife had to say, as a 
 nod or smile would now and then attest. But this 
 afternoon he at once took the initiative in the way 
 of conversation, and proved himself to be cognizant 
 of matters in the town in which his family had 
 not supposed him to take any interest, discussing 
 with a discriminating, clear-headed judgment topics 
 which would have seemed impossible for one to 
 discuss whose mind was deranged. 
 
 For the first time in her acquaintance with him, 
 Jessie had a glimpse of what Doctor Carrol had 
 been before this cloud came upon him ; and she 
 never afterward doubted that on this occasion he 
 had, for a time at least, regained a healthy mental 
 balance. 
 
 His conversation this afternoon proved that even 
 in his seclusion he had kept himself informed of
 
 THE LETTER. 6 1 
 
 what was going on about him, and more than once 
 his visitor was struck by his keen and critical 
 analysis of people and motives. Jessie glanced 
 now and then at Mrs. Carrol, who took little part 
 in the conversation, but whose face was perfectly 
 transformed with happiness. It was as if Hope 
 had whispered in her heart the promise of better 
 days. 
 
 After a time the conversation came round to 
 books, when the subject of a popular work was in- 
 troduced, which reminded Jessie to ask the doc- 
 tor if he had seen the last Quarterly, in which a 
 criticism of this by her uncle had appeared. 
 
 He had not read it, he said, but would take an 
 early opportunity to look it up. Then he spoke of 
 her uncle as an able writer, and predicted that he 
 would make a name and place in literature were he 
 to enter that field. This reminded him of a work 
 which he wanted the minister to read. 
 
 " Wife, will you get that book Burton sent me a 
 few weeks ago ? It is on my study table," the 
 doctor said, apologizing for not going to fetch it 
 himself, on the plea of his lameness, an infirmity 
 which had been growing upon him of late. 
 
 Mrs. Carrol had no sooner left the room to com-
 
 62 THE LETTER. 
 
 ply with his request, than he drew a letter from 
 the breast pocket of his coat. 
 
 It did not occur to Jessie to feel any fear at being 
 left alone with the doctor, till he came over to her, 
 and, stooping down so as to bring his face on a 
 level with her own, begged in a whisper which was 
 tragic in its earnestness, that she would do him a 
 favor. 
 
 " All I ask is that you will deliver this letter in 
 person to the man whose address is written upon 
 it. But not at present must you do this ; not till 
 you hear of my death. Will you promise to do 
 this for me ? " he added, in a voice that was al- 
 most sepulchral in its unnatural pitch and intensity. 
 
 In the first instant of finding this strangely 
 transformed face so near her own, Jessie started 
 back, but quickly recovered herself. She would 
 not show any fear, since the madman might take 
 advantage of it ; but her voice was far from being 
 steady when she answered, 
 
 " Certainly, doctor ; I will do anything for you 
 that I can." She did not offer, however, to take 
 the letter which he held toward her, and evidently 
 thinking she had not understood his request, he 
 repeated it.
 
 THE LETTER. 63 
 
 " Will you take this and deliver it ? I know of 
 no one else to whom I can entrust it, and I feel 
 sure that I can depend upon you, if you give me 
 your word you will do it. It is not a hard thing 
 that I ask of you. Promise ! " This last was al- 
 most a menace. 
 
 Oh ! if his wife would only come back. What 
 could be keeping her ? Jessie felt that she must 
 reply, for those strange wild eyes held her as by 
 some subtle, dreadful charm. 
 
 " I should be glad to serve you, Doctor, but you 
 must be mistaken in thinking you have not other 
 friends who would do so small a service for you. 
 I am sure your wife or son " 
 
 " They must not know anything about it," in- 
 terposed the doctor. " That is just why I wish you 
 to do it. Miss Jessie, do not fail me. I have de- 
 pended upon you to carry this, my full confession, 
 to the only person living, who knows anything of 
 the crime which is slowly killing me. I cannot 
 die without making it known." The doctor had 
 changed his tone and attitude to a supplicating 
 one, and was now on his knees, though those 
 basilisk eyes never for a moment removed them- 
 selves from his victim's face.
 
 64 THE LETTER. 
 
 " You must not refuse to do this for me, or evil 
 will " Here a draught of air in the hall shut to 
 the door of the room. The doctor started violently, 
 then thrusting the letter into Jessie's hand, cried 
 excitedly, 
 
 " Conceal it quickly ; no one must see it," and 
 instinctively the girl's hand went to her pocket. 
 She must take the letter since forced to do so, but 
 later she could give it to his wife. 
 
 " Thanks, my dear girl. The prayers of a truly 
 penitent man will follow you," cried the doctor, 
 grasping her hand and pressing it with a fervor, 
 apparently born of intense relief. 
 
 What had she done ? Was this tacit consent to 
 his wishes to be a binding obligation ? To deliver 
 a letter seemed a simple thing enough, but in this 
 case what might it not entail ? Thoughts like 
 these were passing confusedly through Jessie's 
 brain as the doctor regained his chair. 
 
 A moment later, when his wife entered, there 
 was nothing in the doctor's appearance to give a 
 hint of what had just occurred ; though Jessie's 
 absorbed expression did not escape Mrs. Carrol, 
 who wondered what had brought such a thoughtful, 
 introspective look to the bright face.
 
 THE LETTER. 65 
 
 She apologized for having being gone so long, 
 but said she had quite a hunt for the book, which 
 she had finally found among a pile of papers. 
 
 In taking it from his wife, the doctor thanked 
 her, but he had apparently forgotten his purpose 
 in regard to it, and Jessie would have left the 
 house without it, had not Mrs. Carrol reminded 
 him of his intention. 
 
 After what had just passed, Jessie could but feel 
 that the doctor \&& finessed not a little to get his 
 wife out of the room ; that this book had only been 
 a part of his plan to see her alone, and she was ill 
 at ease in taking her leave of Mrs. Carrol with 
 that letter in her pocket. 
 
 The doctor had followed her to the door, allow- 
 ing her no opportunity to carry out her purpose in 
 regard to it. Had he suspected that she would 
 give it to his wife ? He had at least made it im- 
 possible for her to do so without his knowledge ; 
 and his parting words had seemed to strengthen 
 the obligation to which her silence had bound her. 
 
 " A friend in need is a friend indeed," he had 
 said with a pressure of her hand which had made 
 his meaning unmistakable, though his words had 
 seemed to supplement his wife's expression of
 
 66 THE LETTER. 
 
 gratitude that Jessie had not stood upon ceremony 
 with her in the matter of calls. 
 
 The girl's feelings were anything but comfort- 
 able as she walked home with the doctor's letter 
 still in her possession. What should she do with 
 it ? To give it up now to any one but the person 
 for whom it was intended, seemed to her an out- 
 rage of trust, against which her sense of right re- 
 volted. 
 
 If she only had not taken it ! She should have 
 been firm in refusing to have anything to do with 
 the doctor's commission, since it was to be kept 
 from his wife's knowledge. Now as she recalled 
 that moment it seemed as if a power outside of 
 herself had compelled her to take that letter. 
 
 She certainly had not intended to ; she had 
 weakly yielded when she should have been firm ; 
 for now Jessie laughed at the thought that she 
 had really any thing to fear from the doctor. He 
 would never have harmed her in any way, nor 
 could he have forced her to take it. No ; her will 
 must be naturally weak. Had the habit of yielding 
 it under her Aunt Helen's discipline grown into a 
 defect of character ? It seemed very like it, since 
 she had had no doubt as to what was right in this
 
 THE LETTER. 6/ 
 
 matter. She had compromised with principle. 
 The weakness of her character had got the better 
 of her. Jessie did not spare herself in these accusa- 
 tions, though she was fain to remember the many 
 contests of will in which she had been utterly 
 worsted, and left to gather up such bits of her own 
 personality as had survived the struggle. 
 
 Well, she would at least see to what she now 
 stood committed through this last unfortunate 
 surrender of her will ; and taking the letter from 
 her pocket, she read the following address, 
 
 DOCTOR BENJAMIN K. LANDFORD, 
 
 Arlington, Hanover Co., New York State. 
 
 If she kept this letter she would have to find 
 this man in New York State. That, probably, 
 would not be a very great undertaking ; but she 
 was not called upon to do this at present. " When 
 you hear of my death," Doctor Carrol had said ; 
 and the day might be far distant when she would 
 be required to redeem her pledge. In the mean- 
 time she would be likely often to see Doctor 
 Carrol, and it would be strange if she could not 
 find an opportunity to give it back to him, and be 
 quit of all responsibility in the matter.
 
 68 THE LETTER. 
 
 Then her mind went back to the day when Mil- 
 ton Carrol had spoken to her of his father's 
 hallucination. He had allowed that there was a 
 mystery in his life to which they had not the clue. 
 It might be that this letter would furnish it ; prob- 
 ably make everything clear. But might it not 
 prove that the doctor's accusers had been right in 
 taking his charges against himself at their worst ? 
 
 No ; she would not believe that any grave 
 charge could be proved against this man, whose 
 honorable, Christian principles she could not 
 doubt. Besides, had she not promised Milton 
 Carrol that she would believe no evil of his father ? 
 and now should she give the lie to her words, 
 by assuming that this letter could criminate him ? 
 that it was the confession of an actual crime ? 
 No ; she could best prove his innocence by giving 
 what publicity she could to his confession. But 
 even this thought did not change Jessie's deter- 
 mination to be quit of such an obligation on the 
 first opportunity. The more her mind dwelt upon 
 it, the harder it was for her to believe that Doctor 
 Carrol had not known what he was talking about 
 that afternoon. No one could have handled the 
 subjects that he had more intelligently.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MISS NORBERRY'S MISTAKE. 
 
 CATHERINE, I think it is high time a stop 
 should be put to Jessie's going so much to 
 the Carrols. The first thing we know she will be 
 involved in a love entanglement, which we should 
 all deplore." 
 
 Helen Norberry had deliberated some little time 
 before expressing herself in this way to her sister- 
 in-law, knowing that both she and the minister felt 
 very kindly to the doctor's family ; and that neither 
 of them believed that there was any foundation for 
 the reports current against him, other than in his 
 own diseased fancy. But whether there was or 
 not, was not the point with Miss Norberry. There 
 certainly was the taint of insanity in the Carrol 
 blood, and that, in this lady's opinion, was a suffi- 
 cient ban, even if there were no other. 
 
 And now her suspicions were aroused that her 
 niece was becoming interested in the doctor's son, 
 who evidently was more than interested in her. 
 
 69
 
 7O MISS NORBERRY'S MISTAKE. 
 
 Several times of late she had heard Jessie 
 warmly defend Milton Carrol from aspersions 
 which had been made against him in her presence ; 
 and this, with other things, had opened Miss Nor- 
 berry's eyes to her niece's danger in this acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 " Milton Carrol," Miss Norberry continued, " is 
 just the kind of man to take the fancy of a girl like 
 Jessie, and the very fact that she believes him to 
 be misrepresented and maligned, makes him more 
 interesting to her. We are certainly doing wrong 
 in allowing her to go there so often." 
 
 " From the fact that she does go there often, I 
 feel sure, Helen, you are mistaken in thinking 
 there is any such feeling on her part. Jessie is not 
 the girl to put herself in any man's way. She has 
 never spoken of meeting him, and her calls upon 
 his mother are invariably at such times as he is 
 unlikely to be at home. But even if she does 
 occasionally meet him in this way, I see no harm 
 in her doing so ; and certainly neither her uncle 
 nor myself would feel like forbidding her to go 
 there." 
 
 " Forbidding her to go there," interposed Miss 
 Norberry, " would be as foolish a thing as could
 
 MISS NORBERRY'S MISTAKE. 71 
 
 be done. If I did not understand human nature 
 pretty thoroughly I might have made that blunder 
 myself. But Jessie would have known at once 
 that the prohibition was on Milton Carrol's ac- 
 count, and if she has not already exalted him to 
 the highest pinnacle of her regard, she would do 
 so directly. If you or John do not see danger for 
 her in this acquaintance, I do ; and I furthermore 
 realize that our only safe course will be to send 
 her away from Newbury. Her Annt Wilson must 
 invite her there to spend the winter ; and not only 
 must such a request meet with no opposition from 
 us, but Jessie must be made to see it in the light 
 of duty. Mrs. Wilson is her mother's only sister, 
 and it is no more than right that Jessie should make 
 her a long visit now and then. In Boston she 
 will be in no danger of meeting Milton Carrol, or 
 of having her sympathies worked upon by his 
 his family. My brother Allan's child must form 
 no improper or romantic attachments." 
 
 Miss Norberry had spoken very decidedly, and 
 her sister-in-law saw that her mind was fully made 
 up to the step she proposed. That she had Jessie's 
 real interest at heart, could not be questioned, 
 however mistaken she might be in her methods.
 
 72 MISS NORBERRY'S MISTAKE. 
 
 Helen Norberry had filled the place of a mother 
 to Jessie since the latter was two years old ; and 
 though her rule had been an iron one, she had 
 been conscientious in the discharge of her duties. 
 In return she had received the obedience she de- 
 manded, and such a measure of love as was natural 
 from a child of Jessie's warm, affectionate nature. 
 
 But it was to her Aunt Kitty that Jessie had 
 gone with all her childish sorrows and confidences, 
 and this relative really knew her better than she 
 who had taken the place of a mother to her. 
 
 " I do not think Jessie will care to spend so long 
 a time with her Aunt Wilson ; her home can 
 scarcely be a pleasant one for any young girl. Be- 
 sides, I can't bear to think of her going away from 
 us." 
 
 Mrs. Norberry was troubled, and the usually 
 serene expression of her face had given place to 
 something like a frown ; but this quickly dis- 
 appeared as she remembered that Jessie herself 
 would have a word to say about this, and that she 
 might put an effectual veto upon the measure by 
 resolutely declining her Aunt Wilson's invitation. 
 
 " I can't fancy why you have singled out Milton 
 Carrol ; but since you seem to feel so sure that he
 
 MISS NORBERRY S MISTAKE. 73 
 
 stands ready to gobble Jessie up, perhaps to save 
 her from so dreadful a fate it may be best to send 
 her away," Mrs Norberry smilingly said. 
 
 "I don't see that it is any joking matter, Cath- 
 erine," Miss Norberry replied stiffly. " If I can 
 help it, Jessie shall not be sacrificed to a false sen- 
 timent. Rather than she should ever be Milton 
 Carrol's wife, I would willingly see her lie dead in 
 her coffin." 
 
 Mrs. Norberry was accustomed to such strong 
 expressions, and was wont to say in plea for her, 
 " It is only Helen's way," but in this instance she 
 looked not a little shocked, and, for a moment, did 
 not reply. Then she said quietly, 
 
 " I cannot see this as you do, Helen, but if her 
 uncle thinks it best that Jessie should go away 
 from Newbury, I will not oppose, sorry as I shall 
 be to part with her." 
 
 In talking this over with her brother, Miss Nor- 
 berry made a point of Jessie's growing intimacy 
 with the doctor's wife, which brought her so often 
 in contact with the family, and though she had 
 nothing in proof of an attachment at present exist- 
 ing between her niece and Milton Carrol, she in- 
 sisted that there was danger of such a contingency.
 
 74 MISS NORBERRY'S MISTAKE. 
 
 Like his wife, John Norberry could not see 
 where the danger to Jessie, in this acquaintance, 
 lay ; nor did he regard it as so very contumacious 
 on Milton Carrol's part, should he aspire to his 
 niece's hand. But when his sister abruptly asked 
 him if he wished Jessie to marry into a mad family 
 she had him at a disadvantage. 
 
 " Like father, like son," she said. "Even now 
 Milton Carrol was different from other young men ; 
 but what might to-day pass for eccentricity in him, 
 a few years hence would be recognized as the fam- 
 ily taint. He was a dangerous acquaintance for a 
 girl who held the romantic notions that Jessie did 
 about friendship and honor." 
 
 " Last month it was young Mildmay, now it is 
 Mr. Carrol. It seems to me, Helen, that you mag- 
 nify your duties," ventured the minister mildly. 
 
 "That was quite a different matter. I spoke 
 for Mr. Mildmay's own sake. Jessie is in no dan- 
 ger there. I do think, as I said, that you had 
 better not invite him here to preach again ; any- 
 body can see that he has eyes and ears only for 
 Jessie." 
 
 " He shows his good taste at least," was the 
 minister's amused rejoinder. He well knew the
 
 MISS NORBERRY'S MISTAKE. 75 
 
 young divine's penchant for his beautiful niece ; 
 and also knew that Jessie was quite indifferent to 
 him in return. 
 
 "That's as you think," sharply returned Miss 
 Norberry. " He doesn't show his good sense, at any 
 rate, to be so enamored of a fair face as to forget 
 a waiting congregation, and his duties in the house 
 of God. The last time he preached here the bell 
 had stopped tolling some time before he was able 
 to tear himself away from Jessie. Then he ran 
 every step of the way, to find the whole parish 
 waiting for him when he got there." 
 
 The minister had slightly raised his eyebrows 
 while his sister was speaking ; an evidence that he 
 was annoyed. " If Mildmay forgot himself, Jessie 
 should have reminded him," he said gravely. 
 
 " Well, she did not, and it is not the first time, 
 cither, that she has amused herself at his expense." 
 
 Miss Norberry carried the day in the matter of 
 sending Jessie away from Newbury, as her uncle 
 had no particular objection to her making Mrs. 
 Wilson a visit ; though his acquiescence in his 
 sister's plans were passive rather than active. 
 
 Jessie had hesitated about accepting her aunt's 
 invitation, because, for certain reasons, she felt un-
 
 76 MISS NORBERRY'S MISTAKE. 
 
 willing just at this time to leave Newbury. The 
 strongest of these was that she had not yet found 
 an opportunity to return that letter to Doctor 
 Carrol, though she had gone often to his house 
 hoping to do so. Of late, this had proved almost 
 a nightmare to her, for its possession disturbed 
 even her sleeping hours. She was constantly 
 dreaming that she had lost it, when she would be 
 in great trouble lest some one might find it who 
 would carry it to her aunt ; her care for it even 
 coloring her unconscious hours. For a time she 
 had carried it about her person, in order that she 
 might have it at hand, should an opportunity occur 
 for returning it ; but finally the envelope had be- 
 come so worn as to make her fear that it would 
 not much longer screen from prying eyes the 
 secret committed to its pages. Then for its safer 
 keeping, she had locked it up in one of the drawers 
 of her bureau ; but she had since been constantly 
 haunted with the fear that her Aunt Helen would 
 demand the key to its hiding-place. This, to be 
 sure, had not happened yet ; and since this letter 
 had been consigned to its present sanctuary it had 
 been removed only on the occasions of her visits 
 to the doctor's wife.
 
 MISS NORBERRY S MISTAKE. // 
 
 These visits had grown more frequent of late, 
 for the desire to get that letter out of her hands 
 had come to be an absorbing one. 
 
 Since the unlucky day when it had been forced 
 upon her, she had never for a moment seen Doc- 
 tor Carrol alone. Now, if she went away from 
 Newbury, how was she to accomplish her purpose ? 
 But was not farther resistance useless ? Fate 
 seemed forcing her on to the carrying out of the 
 doctor's trust. If she went away, she must take 
 this letter with her, as she was in honor bound to 
 shield its secret, and if she left it at home her 
 aunt would be sure sooner or later to come upon it. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson had been quick to respond to Miss 
 Norberry's intimation that Jessie needed a change, 
 and had written her niece that she was lonely, and 
 desired her company, putting in a strong claim to 
 the right of at least a part of her time. 
 
 That her relatives in Newbury had been strange- 
 ly ready to give her up did not escape Jessie, 
 though she little suspected that her going had 
 been a concerted plan. To be sure her Aunt 
 Kitty cried when the matter was settled, and her 
 cousins Allan and Roger loudly protested against 
 this visit. But with her uncle and Aunt Helen
 
 78 MISS NORBERRY'S MISTAKE. 
 
 nothing had seemed to have any weight in the 
 balance with her Aunt Wilson's claims. 
 
 It might be her duty to go, as her friends seemed 
 to think, but Jessie could not bring herself to feel 
 any pleasure in the thought of this visit. 
 
 And a fortnight later, when she found herself 
 settled for the winter in her Aunt Wilson's house, 
 the world and all its enjoyments seemed as en- 
 tirely shut away from her as if she had entered 
 upon a conventual life. 
 
 The great gloomy rooms oppressed and stifled 
 her, much as the air of a prison might, of which it 
 most reminded her, and many times a day she 
 found herself longing for the cheery home she had 
 left, and the companionship of the wide-awake, 
 warm-hearted little cousins, whose merry shout and 
 boyish whistle would have been music in her ears. 
 
 The narrow horizon which now bounded her 
 vision had the effect of turning it in upon herself, 
 and her world seemed to hold but one object of 
 interest. She was, in fact, fast becoming a dis- 
 ciple of Fichte, without knowing anything of his 
 philosophy in that she was acquiring the habit 
 of referring all things to herself, and judging every- 
 thing by its relation to her own interests.
 
 MISS NORBERRV'S MISTAKE. 79 
 
 Mrs. Wilson had shut herself away from society 
 till she was apparently forgotten. The few friends 
 who had formerly come often to the house had 
 grown weary of her chronic state of invalidisni ; 
 or new interests absorbed them ; and the monot- 
 ony of her life was, therefore, seldom broken by 
 communication with the outside world. Her well- 
 drilled corps of servants went about on tiptoe, in 
 deference to her invalid nerves, and even the inan- 
 imate accessories of her life seemed to have be- 
 come imbued with the spirit of quietness which 
 had so long reigned in the old house ; for so much 
 as a creaking door seldom disturbed its peace. 
 
 It was the invalid's habit to lie all day upon the 
 sofa or reclining chair, where she kept her maid in 
 constant attendance. It was wonderful how much 
 she found for Martha to do about her person. 
 That she must have made a study of this matter 
 of attendance, Jessie felt sure, not realizing how 
 proficient in this respect one may become in years 
 of practice. 
 
 When Mrs. Wilson was not suffering from any 
 one of the host of ills with which she thought her- 
 self afflicted, Jessie read aloud to her two hours 
 every morning, and again in the afternoon if the
 
 8o MISS NORBERRY'S MISTAKE. 
 
 invalid wished. The books her aunt preferred 
 were not often such as she would have chosen, but 
 she was glad of any occupation that should draw 
 her away from herself. 
 
 In her private communings at this time (and they 
 were frequent), Jessie accused herself of having 
 no spirit. Not another girl of her acquaintance 
 would endure such a life as she was leading. Sev- 
 eral times she resolved to write her uncle that she 
 could not stay longer, but the days went by, and 
 she did not put it in practice. But had it not been 
 for the vocal and painting lessons, for which she 
 went out several times a week, she told herself 
 that nothing could have made her monotonous life 
 endurable. 
 
 One day soon after New Year's, she met Doc- 
 tor Forney in a bookstore, and he seemed much 
 struck by her appearance. 
 
 " Are you well ? It seems to me you are not 
 looking so," he said solicitously. 
 
 Jessie assured him of her health, and then 
 rather listlessly (as she did everything in these 
 days) asked him to call and see her at her aunt's, 
 where she was spending the winter. 
 
 He promised to do so, and a few days later
 
 MISS NORBERRY'S MISTAKE. 81 
 
 called and invited her to attend a concert with him 
 the following evening, an invitation which she 
 gladly accepted. 
 
 After this she saw him frequently, till it seemed 
 as if some occult power was drawing them to- 
 gether ; so sure were they to meet if Jessie 
 stepped out of doors.. And she was going out 
 more of late, having determined to hunt up some 
 old school friends whom she knew would have 
 called upon her ere this, had they learned of 
 her being in the city. But whatever direction she 
 chanced to take, going or coming, she was almost 
 certain to see the doctor, till she came to regard 
 him as less a man of leisure than she had sup- 
 posed. 
 
 The winter had finally worn away, and spring 
 opened, but Jessie was not recalled home as she 
 had expected. She could not see that she was 
 doing her Aunt Wilson any particular good by re- 
 maining ; but that lady would not hear of her 
 going back to Newbury. 
 
 As the days went by, Jessie thought that the 
 morrow would surely bring her the word of release ; 
 but it did not come. She saw her uncle occasion- 
 ally, when business obliged him to take a hurried
 
 82 MISS NORBERRY'S MISTAKE. 
 
 trip to the city ; but he said not a word about her 
 going back, and pride would not allow her to sug- 
 gest it. She had supposed they would miss her, 
 and would rebel at her staying longer away ; but 
 when no message to that effect came, she told her- 
 self that she did not mind, that it was just as well ; 
 but nevertheless she was conscious of a dull pain 
 at her heart which the bright spring weather did 
 not help to ease. How she longed at this time for 
 a sight of the fair green fields of old Newbury, and 
 the delightful wooded haunts with which she was 
 familiar ; its sheltered dells and breezy uplands 
 were all remembered now. 
 
 In fancy she could see them waking to new life 
 and beauty in the soft spring sunshine, where the 
 dainty nun-like flowers were making their escape 
 from Winter's cloistered cell. 
 
 She knew them all, and just where to look for 
 them. There was the frosted silver mitrewert, the 
 waxen cassandra, the creamy gold-thread, the starry 
 wintergreen, with a host of others ; the thought of 
 which made her sick at heart, that these sweet 
 harbingers of the summer were not to be wel- 
 comed by herself, while the dusty city streets 
 grew daily more intolerable.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION. 
 
 FROM considering always her own comfort, 
 ^^ Mrs. Wilson had grown regardless of that 
 of others ; but if there was any one in the world 
 whom she loved beside herself, it was her niece, 
 and she could not help seeing that Jessie drooped 
 from day to day. What was the matter ? She 
 had not used to be so listless and apathetic in 
 fact, the girl's buoyant spirits had been something 
 of a cross to the weak and nervous woman. Was 
 it simply that Jessie was growing older laying 
 aside her brisk, bright girlish ways, and taking 
 on a more quiet habit of manner and thought ? 
 Mrs. Wilson could but regret the change whatever 
 had caused it ; she would gladly have seen again 
 in her niece the sparkle and animation of former 
 days. 
 
 Though Jessie never confessed of being ill, her 
 aunt finally began to realize that she must be so ; 
 and when this had fairly entered into her con- 
 
 83
 
 84 A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION. 
 
 sciousness (since it was hard for the woman to 
 understand that any one but herself could be sick) 
 she was aroused, and sent at once for her phy- 
 sician. 
 
 Doctor Bowen came, said Jessie was a little run 
 down that she needed a tonic, and after writing 
 a prescription, predicted that she would be all 
 right again in a few days. 
 
 Jessie swallowed without remonstrance, the tea- 
 spoonful of medicine which her aunt prepared for 
 her ; but on taking the bottle to her room at night, 
 as her relative advised, she threw the remainder 
 out of the window. 
 
 On Doctor Bowen's second visit (for Mrs. Wil- 
 son not being satisfied with her niece's progress 
 toward recovery had called the doctor in again) 
 that fossilized piece of humanity wrote another 
 prescription made the original remark that it 
 was very warm for the time of year, which, by the 
 way, was the middle of June, and seasonable 
 weather, and in another moment would have been 
 gone, but in crossing the room for his hat he had 
 encountered a pair of brown eyes which had been 
 studying him intently. Whether it was in them 
 that he found .the inspiration of a new idea, or in
 
 A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION. 85 
 
 the crown of his hat which for a moment engaged 
 his attention, it is impossible to say, since petri- 
 faction is subject to no known laws ; but he had 
 certainly found one somewhere, as he the next 
 moment proved. 
 
 " Perhaps a change would be well for Miss 
 Jessie; better than medicine," he said. "Old 
 folks like ourselves," bowing low to Mrs. Wilson, 
 "who have been longer in the world, and who 
 have become, so to speak, acclimated to it, rub 
 along very well in the same old groove ; but young 
 people should have an occasional change." 
 
 Doctor Bowen's fee was five dollars, and this 
 time he had earned his money, for his words set 
 Mrs. Wilson thinking ; the result of which was 
 that she determined to take Jessie to the moun- 
 tains. She did not come to this decision hastily, 
 nor without counting the cost to herself in giving 
 up the quiet comfort of her home for the noise and 
 discomfort of a public hostelry. But she could 
 not see Jessie sink into a state of invalidism, as 
 she seemed to be doing. If it were change she 
 needed, she should have it at any cost. Besides, 
 if this condition of things continued, and her 
 Newbury friends learned of her ill health, she
 
 86 A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION. 
 
 would be taken from the city at once, and perhaps 
 not allowed again to visit her. Looking at it 
 either way, matters were assuming a really serious 
 turn, she felt, and something should be done im- 
 mediately. 
 
 Jessie listened to her aunt's proposition without 
 manifesting either surprise or interest in it. But 
 this apathy on her part proved just the spur Mrs. 
 Wilson needed, and now that she had some one to 
 think of beside herself, that lady found herself able 
 to do many things which a few weeks before she 
 would have thought impossible. 
 
 It was getting late in the season, and there was 
 some delay in securing desirable accommodations ; 
 but finally arrangements were made which prom- 
 ised to be satisfactory in every way. 
 
 As the time of leaving approached, Jessie 
 roused herself and began to show some interest 
 in the preparations, occasionally suggesting some- 
 thing they might need during a summer's sojourn, 
 for Mrs. Wilson intended to remain away till cool 
 weather. She did not believe in leaving the city 
 for a few weeks. " If one went at all, one should 
 stay," she said, in making her arrangements. 
 
 Jessie brightened up so much the last few days
 
 A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION. 87 
 
 they were at home, that her aunt almost regretted 
 her determination to go away, and felt she had 
 perhaps been in too great haste, since her niece 
 might have been just as well to remain in the city 
 now that she had grown somewhat accustomed to 
 the heat. 
 
 But the invalid knew there was no drawing back 
 now, since matters had gone too far. They finally 
 left the city on a sultry day early in July, and the 
 same night found themselves safe at the Glen 
 House with the grand old mountains all about 
 them. 
 
 Their pleasant airy quarters at this hotel proved 
 far more comfortable than Mrs. Wilson had an- 
 ticipated, but still it was some little time before 
 she entirely ceased to mourn for home privileges. 
 
 " The Bussells and Whitneys are here, Aunty, 
 but I must beg to be excused from delivering the 
 numberless messages they sent you. But you are 
 to give me up to them and have no care and 
 they will only be too happy, etc., etc. How are 
 you feeling this morning ? " Jessie here suddenly 
 remembered that she had not yet inquired for her 
 aunt's health, an omission which was sure to be 
 visited upon her ; and for which she tried to atone
 
 88 A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION. 
 
 by stooping and kissing the worn face upon the 
 pillow. 
 
 "As well as I could expect, after what I went 
 through .yesterday. Last night there was not a 
 spot in my head that did not feel sore, and this 
 morning it is not much better. But I'm glad you 
 have found friends who will go about with you, 
 for it is more than likely I shall not be up again for 
 the summer." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, you will, Aunty. You are tired this 
 morning, of course, after such a long ride, but you 
 will be down-stairs in a few days. The air here is 
 sure to invigorate you, and I expect you'll make 
 the ascent of Mount Washington before we go 
 home. I feel like another creature, just being 
 here a few hours." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson's only response was an audible 
 sigh, and a few minutes later Jessie quitted the 
 room, feeling the utter futility of trying to con- 
 vince so confirmed an invalid that life held any- 
 thing better for her. 
 
 Her prediction that her aunt would be down- 
 stairs in a few days, was not verified ; for it was a 
 fortnight before that lady thought herself able to 
 accomplish this feat. But from the day she first
 
 A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION. 89 
 
 did so she took her place among the guests of the 
 house, appearing regularly at her meals, and laid 
 entirely aside her invalid habits. 
 
 In the meantime, Jessie had entered with all the 
 zest of youth and a light heart into the amuse- 
 ments which their delightful summer retreat af- 
 forded. Mountain air and cheerful company had 
 proved all the tonic she needed ; and no one seeing 
 her now would have dreamed that her health had 
 so lately been a serious consideration. 
 
 Her old school friends, Jennie Bussell and Maud 
 Whitney, she found pleasant, attractive girls, and 
 ihough she had mentally outstripped them, there 
 were many things they could and did enjoy in 
 common. In her school days she had been often 
 invited to their homes, where their parents had 
 treated her with marked attention. Then, she 
 had not understood why she was singled out for 
 their regard ; now she knew that the favor had 
 been shown to Allan Norberry's daughter. And 
 on meeting her here they had claimed the right to 
 chaperone her on the score of old friendship ; a 
 right which Jessie did not gainsay, though she had 
 soon settled the matter of chaperonage by yielding 
 the right only to her aunt.
 
 9O A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION. 
 
 By the middle of August the hotel was full of 
 guests representing our best American society, 
 but one could not be long in the house without 
 learning that the palm of belle-ship had been 
 awarded to Jessie Norberry. Nor was this girl's 
 pre-eminence in the house due to the fact of her 
 being the daughter of the late honored Allan Nor- 
 berry (as she would herself have attributed it) but 
 to her beauty, grace, and charming unconscious- 
 ness of manner as well. No party was complete 
 without Jessie, who was soon well up in the topog- 
 raphy of all that delightful region where day after 
 day in its sylvan glades she held the court of a 
 Naiad queen. 
 
 Among the guests at this time were a Mr. 
 Winter and his daughter. This gentleman was 
 something of a recluse, avoiding society generally, 
 but completely wrapped up in his child, whom he 
 could seldom bear to have out of his sight. 
 
 Carrie Winter was evidently devoted to her 
 father, and excused his seeming unsocial manner, 
 from the fact that he had never gotten over her 
 mother's death, which had been a very great blow 
 to him. Although Mr. Winter had been a wid- 
 ower some years, he still spoke of his loss as a
 
 A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION. 9! 
 
 recent one, and strangers supposed him passing 
 through the early days of bereavement. 
 
 Jessie had from their first meeting been very 
 much drawn to Carrie Winter, who was a sin- 
 gularly bright and interesting girl, and their 
 acquaintance had ripened into a warm friendship. 
 
 Mr. Winter had come to the Glen only for a 
 few days, but finding that his daughter had soon 
 made friends, and that she was enjoying herself 
 here, he had extended his stay from week to week, 
 when he was suddenly recalled home in the midst 
 of the season by business affairs which needed his 
 attention. 
 
 On the last evening that Jessie and her friend 
 Carrie would be together, they had gone to one of 
 the parlors for a game of whist. This was about 
 the only amusement in which Mr. Winter in- 
 dulged, and his daughter had proposed it, seeing 
 that the time was hanging heavily on his hands. 
 
 The band was playing just outside the windows, 
 and a throng of promenaders were surging through 
 the halls, while the little party of whist players 
 were intent upon their game. 
 
 Jessie who sat with her back toward the 
 door, was aware that a number of persons had
 
 92 A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION. 
 
 entered the room by the increased hum of voices, 
 and she heard some one near her, say, " What a 
 regal-looking woman ! " but it was her turn to play 
 at the moment, and she did not look up. The next, 
 she heard her name spoken, and turning, saw her 
 friend Mrs. Carrol. 
 
 " I caught a glimpse of you from the piazza, and 
 was sure it must be Jessie Norberry, though I 
 could hardly believe in such good fortune," said 
 that lady, who, our heroine now saw, was accom- 
 panied by her husband and son. 
 
 Jessie had no sooner greeted these friends than 
 she turned to introduce them to her party. But 
 Mr. Winter had recognized Doctor Carrol, and 
 held out his hand with a cordial welcome for his 
 old acquaintance. " Doctor Carrol ! Well, if this 
 is not a surprise ! " he was saying, his face alight 
 with satisfaction. 
 
 But why did Doctor Carrol draw suddenly back, 
 as if the figure before him had been a ghost ? 
 Certainly there was nothing repellent in the appear- 
 ance of the man who had so heartily welcomed 
 him. And why did the doctor's cheek suddenly 
 blanch, and his limbs tremble so they would hardly 
 support him ?
 
 A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION. 93 
 
 If the hand extended to him had been a scorpion, 
 he could hardly have regarded it with greater horror. 
 Evidently he had received a shock of some kind, 
 for his form suddenly swayed back into the arms 
 of his son, who, hastily apologizing for his father's 
 weak state, bore him away as if he had been a 
 child. 
 
 Jessie at once excused herself to her friends, and 
 followed Mrs. Carrol, from whom she learned that 
 they had arrived at the Glen late that afternoon. 
 It seemed the doctor had insisted upon coming 
 down-stairs, though his wife had feared him too 
 much fatigued already from his journey. 
 
 Mrs. Carrol was quite unnerved by what had 
 occurred, and, for the first time since her acquaint- 
 ance with that lady, Jessie saw her give way to 
 tears. 
 
 " I am not often such a child as to cry," she 
 said, apologizing for her momentary weakness, 
 "but I have been under quite a nervous strain 
 since we started. It was, of course, a doubtful ex- 
 periment, taking the doctor from home, but his 
 bodily health was suffering, and we hoped that a 
 change might build him up. I am so glad to find 
 you here, dear child," she said, putting her arms
 
 94 A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION. 
 
 about Jessie's neck as she added, " I feel as if you 
 had been sent to me." 
 
 " I am sure I am glad to be here if my presence 
 can be any comfort to you," Jessie returned 
 heartily. 
 
 They had by this time reached Mrs. Carrol's 
 apartments, and that lady went at once to her hus- 
 band, promising to send Jessie word of his condi- 
 tion when he should have been got to bed. 
 
 Since her presence seemed to be a matter of 
 satisfaction to Mrs. Carrol, Jessie determined to 
 remain near till her anxiety as to this attack was 
 relieved ; so taking a seat in the broad window-sill 
 which commanded a view of the hall, she waited 
 for the message which the doctor's wife had prom- 
 ised to send her, and presently fell into a revery 
 which made her entirely oblivious to her outward 
 surroundings. 
 
 She had suddenly remembered that letter locked 
 up in an escritoire in her Aunt Wilson's house. 
 If Mr. Carrol were to die, she would be in honor 
 bound to carry out the trust he had laid upon her. 
 And he had looked so like death a moment since ! 
 What a frail tenure he must hold on life to have 
 been so easily overcome ; but by what ? Perhaps
 
 A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION. 95 
 
 it was a stroke. Jessie was sure she had heard of 
 people being stricken down in this way, and even 
 if he lived he might never again have the power 
 of speech or consciousness. In that case she 
 could not hope for a release from her obligation. 
 
 " Why, Miss Jessie, have you been waiting here 
 all this time ? My mother wished me to find you 
 and say that my father seems quiet and inclined 
 to sleep ; so you are to have no further anxiety on 
 his account." 
 
 A white dress in the embrasure of the hall win- 
 dow had caught Milton Carrol's eye on his way to 
 the broad staircase, and something in the attitude 
 of the wearer arrested his steps. A second glance 
 had shown him that he need go no further ; but 
 Jessie had not seen him till he was close upon her. 
 
 The color deepened on her cheek, and a sud- 
 den suffusion dimmed the soft eyes raised to his 
 face, as she said : 
 
 " Oh ! I am so glad. Then you do not think 
 this attack will have any serious consequences ? " 
 
 " No ; I do not anticipate any more trouble. I 
 think he will be all right by morning." 
 
 Milton Carrol little dreamed how like a reprieve 
 his words had seemed to the girl beside him.
 
 g6 A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION. 
 
 " But I am sorry this should have happened to 
 mar your evening's pleasure," he continued. " If 
 I see you looking so grave and anxious again as 
 you were just now, I shall regret that we came 
 here." The next moment he had offered Jessie 
 his arm, and asked if he should not take her back 
 to her friends. 
 
 " I am very glad that you did come here," was 
 her smiling response, as she accepted his proffered 
 arm. " But your father must have been much bet- 
 ter than when I left Newbury, for you to think of 
 going from home with him?" she added question- 
 ingly. 
 
 " Yes ; there has appeared of late very little the 
 matter with him, but a general debility. It seemed 
 as if a change might be of benefit, and as the Glen 
 was always one of his chosen summer haunts, we 
 determined to bring him here. It was most un- 
 fortunate that he should have met his old friend, 
 Mr. Winter, though I cannot imagine why it should 
 have had such an effect upon him. That is, unless 
 Mr. Winter is in some way connected with that 
 page in my father's life of which I have not the 
 reading." 
 
 For a moment after this Milton Carrol seemed
 
 A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION. 9/ 
 
 lost in revery, then he said decidedly : " It will be 
 necessary now for us to get away from here as 
 soon as possible, since we cannot risk his meeting 
 Mr. Winter again, as he would be liable to at any 
 moment were we to remain. It is very mysterious," 
 he went on ; " for if there was ever any unpleasant 
 passage between them, it is strange Mr. Winter 
 should have met him as he did." 
 
 " Yes ; but you need not go from here on Mr. 
 Winter's account, for he leaves the Glen to-mor- 
 row morning," Jessie said quickly. 
 
 " Going away in the morning, is he ? How long 
 have you known of this intention ? " Milton Car- 
 rol's face had lighted up at the information, but 
 on second thought it occurred to him that Mr. 
 Winter might be going on his father's account. 
 
 " Since yesterday morning, when he received a 
 letter calling him home. His plans were all made 
 before he met your father," Jessie replied, divining 
 his thought. 
 
 " Then I will try and see him to-night, and ex- 
 plain my father's condition, for he seemed as 
 much mystified at what occurred this evening as 
 myself." 
 
 When they reached the parlor they learned that
 
 98 A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION. 
 
 Mr. Winter and Carrie had a few moments before 
 quitted the house for a walk. 
 
 Mr. Carrol proposed that they should do the 
 same ; but as his companion was not in walking 
 costume, they confined their ramble to the now 
 nearly deserted piazza, where, for the next fifteen 
 minutes, they paced back and forth engaged in 
 pleasant chat. 
 
 " So Henry Germaine is here ? He and I are old 
 college chums," Mr. Carrol said, when Jessie spoke 
 of a party with whom she had that afternoon at- 
 tempted an adventurous feat of mountain climb- 
 ing. 
 
 From Mr. Carrol she learned that her Newbury 
 friends were in open revolt at her long absence ; 
 but to his declaration that everybody there missed 
 her, and would be glad to have her back, she said 
 nothing, feeling that her relatives, at least, had 
 only to say the word ; and they were strangely 
 silent. 
 
 " How majestically Mt. Washington seems to 
 look down upon the lesser hills to-night," Jessie 
 said, attempting to change the subject. 
 
 "Yes," was Mr. Carrol's absent reply, giving 
 only a glance in the direction of the monarch of
 
 A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION. 99 
 
 that region, then returning at once to the subject 
 uppermost in his mind. 
 
 " I heard that you were ill, and away travelling 
 for your health, but in what part of the world my 
 informant did not know." Mr. Carrol did not add 
 that this had come from her cousin Allan ; or that 
 he had ventured the belief that his cousin Jessie 
 had gone out West. " So I little expected to meet 
 you here ; but have you really been ill ? I think I 
 never saw you looking better," with a glance at 
 the sweet bright face that just came to his shoul- 
 der. 
 
 " 111 ? O, no ! not really. One cannot believe 
 all one hears," was Jessie's smiling response. 
 
 " Then perhaps I am not to believe another re- 
 port which I have heard," Mr. Carrol returned, re- 
 garding her closely. 
 
 "That depends, of course, upon what it was." 
 Jessie spoke lightly, taking his words for banter. 
 
 " I heard," Mr. Carrol hesitated, as if rinding it 
 difficult to say what he would with those laughing 
 eyes meeting his own, "I heard you were about 
 to double your joys. That you were meditating 
 matrimony." 
 
 "And who was the happy man ? " Jessie asked,
 
 TOO A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION. 
 
 a slight flush mantling her cheek, which did not 
 escape her companion. 
 
 "Who but Doctor Forney, the great scholar 
 and writer, could hope to be the successful aspir- 
 ant to Miss Jessie Norberry's hand?" Mr. Carrol 
 returned with a touch of sarcasm. 
 
 Jessie laughed gayly. " Doctor Forney, indeed ! 
 No ; I have not that honor, past or prospective," 
 she said, and then became suddenly thoughtful. 
 
 Had the doctor's name really been associated 
 with hers in any such rumor ? She had never 
 thought of such a result when availing herself of 
 his kindness. To be sure he had been her only 
 escort the last winter, but the times when she 
 had been out with him could be counted upon the 
 fingers of one hand. 
 
 Had her aunt Helen heard this ? Jessie now 
 remembered that in every letter this lady had 
 written her there had been some inquiry about the 
 doctor. Had she been kept in Boston that she 
 might meet him ? If so, she had only her aunt 
 Helen to thank for her exile. 
 
 This thought brought Jessie's lips firmly to- 
 gether, while the homely old proverb of the horse 
 and the water came forcibly to her mind.
 
 A SUCCESSFUL PRESCRIPTION. IOI 
 
 That Doctor Forney had only thought to show 
 kindness to her father's daughter, she felt sure ; 
 and in her late lonely and isolated life in her Aunt 
 Wilson's house, she had been very glad of the lit- 
 tle amusement he had thrown in her way. 
 
 Jessie was hardly aware of the complete silence 
 which had fallen between herself and her com- 
 panion, till Milton Carrol said with some con- 
 straint : 
 
 " Perhaps you would like to go in ? It may be 
 cool for you here ? " 
 
 It was on Jessie's lips to disclaim against any 
 such wish, when she heard Carrie Winter say : 
 
 " Why, here are Jessie and Mr. Carrol ! " and 
 the next moment she was borne off by her friend, 
 who wished her opinion of the selection of some 
 photographic views she had just made. 
 
 Going with Carrie to the parlor, Jessie left Mr. 
 Carrol and his father's old friend on the piazza to- 
 gether.
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 BY CHANCE, THE USUAL WAY. 
 
 AN hour later Milton Carrol was indulging in 
 a revery. One light after another went 
 suddenly out in the hotel, as its inmates sought the 
 night's repose, but the man pacing so thoughtfully 
 one of the long piazzas was in no mood for sleep. 
 
 The starry heavens hung like a shining disk 
 above his head, while the grand solemn heights, 
 looming about him, were sending forth their sweet 
 aromatic odors upon the night air. But it was not 
 with Nature that Milton Carrol was communing, 
 though he was not insensible to her influence, but 
 with his own heart. 
 
 Why had Fate ordained that he should meet Jes- 
 sie Norberry here ? He had not sought the meet- 
 ing, and no prescience of danger had warned him 
 off. 
 
 What was this mysterious attraction to which 
 every fibre of his being responded ? He had been 
 
 102
 
 BY CHANCE, THE USUAL WAY. 1 03 
 
 conscious of a great heart throb of delight when 
 he had so unexpectedly come upon her ; now he 
 knew that it would have been far better for his 
 future peace of mind that they had not met. 
 
 The way in which she had parried his question 
 about her engagement, had not deceived him. It 
 was quite natural that she should treat the matter 
 as she had in fact it was the only way in which 
 she could have met it, he reasoned, since he be- 
 lieved now that the announcement of it had been 
 premature. But that she was interested in the 
 doctor, and that she had found his society a suffi- 
 cient reason for so prolonging her stay in the city, 
 was with Milton Carrol a foregone conclusion. 
 When she had so readily denied there being any- 
 thing between herself and the doctor, he had for a 
 brief moment hugged the hope with which for 
 months he had been battling ; but her sudden and 
 constrained silence afterward (as if she were imme- 
 diately conscious of having gone too far in her 
 denial) had seemed to confute her words. Then, 
 too, had not his information of this attachment 
 come from a member of her own family ? Who 
 should know how matters stood between Jessie 
 and the doctor if her relatives did not ? No, she
 
 IO4 BY CHANCE, THE USUAL WAY. 
 
 was not free, at all events, though she might not 
 yet be bound by a positive engagement. 
 
 Well, since chance had thrown them together, 
 he would make the most of his opportunity. He 
 would at least have the joy of meeting her daily, 
 and sunning himself in the rare magnetic presence 
 in which his whole nature seemed to expand, till 
 the world was an Eden in its possibilities of hap- 
 piness. This prospect opened delightful vistas to 
 his imagination, and in no small degree served to 
 soothe his perturbed feelings, finally sending him 
 to his rest to dream of her to whom he had un- 
 wittingly surrendered his whole heart. 
 
 It was in an unusually troubled frame of mind 
 that Jessie left the hotel, a few days later, for her 
 morning stroll. That letter of Doctor Carrol's 
 seemed destined to be the b$te noiroi her life. He 
 would soon leave his room now, and she would be 
 liable at any moment to meet him in hall or corri- 
 dor, when, if she only had it with her, she would 
 be able to return it to him. 
 
 All the morning she had been revolving plans 
 by which it might be sent to her ; but none of 
 them had finally proved feasible. It would not do 
 to write to one of the servants to forward it, as
 
 BY CHANCE, THE USUAL WAY. 10$ 
 
 that would rouse their curiosity, and it would not 
 be a difficult matter for any one interested to do 
 so, to learn the contents of that envelope. She 
 could not go for it herself without being subjected 
 to questions from her aunt, which she would be 
 unable to answer ; nor could she think of any one 
 to whom she could entrust such a commission. 
 
 It was, she felt, very unfortunate that she had 
 left it ; since, if she only had it now in her posses- 
 sion, she might any day be free of the whole mis- 
 erable matter. It seemed as if an evil fate had 
 pursued her ever since that letter came into her 
 hands. Why had she been singled out for a trust 
 which had well-nigh robbed her of all peace of 
 mind ? She would bear this burden no longer. 
 If an appeal to the doctor, which she would make 
 on the first opportunity, did not release her, she 
 would lay the whole matter before his wife, as she 
 ought to have done in the first place. 
 
 Jessie had now reached one of her favorite 
 haunts ; and here she threw herself down in its 
 leafy seclusion, while mentally formulating her 
 purpose. So absorbed was she in thought, as not 
 to notice that any one was approaching her re- 
 treat, till she heard voices in the road just below.
 
 IO6 BY CHANCE, THE USUAL WAY. 
 
 The speaker she knew at once to be Maud Whit- 
 ney, though she could not see her, and she plainly 
 heard her say : 
 
 " She is the most fortunate girl I ever knew. 
 Some people seem to take all the prizes in life. 
 Here she has beauty, wealth, social position, in 
 fact, everything one could desire; all these, and 
 never a care or a trouble in the world," Maud was 
 saying. 
 
 " Was it nothing to have lost her mother when 
 she was a mere child ? " 
 
 Jessie recognized this last voice as Mrs. Whit- 
 ney's, and she was about to make her presence 
 known to mother and daughter when, to her great 
 surprise, she found it was of herself they were 
 speaking. 
 
 "What does Jessie Norberry remember of her 
 mother ? She was too young to miss her. That 
 loss was more than made up to her in her father. 
 The prestige of his name was no small inheritance. 
 No : fortune has showered everything upon her, 
 even the talisman which brings every one to her 
 feet." 
 
 They had passed on, and for a moment the 
 object of their conversation lay thoughtfully study-
 
 BY CHANCE, THE USUAL WAY. IO/ 
 
 ing the lace-like tracery on her white dress, made 
 by the sunlight falling through the leafy boughs 
 overhead ; then, with a sigh, she said : 
 
 "Jessie Norberry, you have never appreciated 
 yourself or your advantages. 'All fortune's gifts, 
 and not a care or trouble in the world.' That is 
 as much as we any of us know of one another's 
 lives," she mused, rising now to return. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson had at first tried to frown down her 
 niece's farmer acquaintance. She was not at all 
 pleased at the spirit of good comradeship which 
 seemed fast growing between Jessie and Milton 
 Carrol. That he was simply her townsman did 
 not call for any such evidences of friendship be- 
 tween them. But even this lady's favor was finally 
 won by the man who carried himself with so per- 
 fect a poise as to command the respect of every 
 one who met him. 
 
 Still she now and then felt some uneasiness 
 when she saw them so constantly together. Why 
 had such a man sought the seclusion of a town 
 like Newbury ? There he could certainly find no 
 opening for his talents, and that he should from 
 choice spend his life at farming, this lady's con- 
 ventional prejudices did not allow her to believe.
 
 IO8 BY CHANCE, THE USUAL WAY. 
 
 He might be all that he seemed, but she deter- 
 mined to write Jessie's guardian, and ascertain if 
 he were indeed a fitting friend for her. But be- 
 fore Mrs. Wilson had carried out this purpose a 
 condition of matters had come about which served 
 to lay at rest any scruples she might have enter- 
 tained in regard to Mr. Carrol's antecedents ; but 
 of this anon.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 JESSIE RENEWS HER PROMISE. 
 
 WHATEVER had been the occasion of 
 Doctor Carrol's nervous shock, he had 
 quickly recovered from it, and there was nothing 
 afterward to indicate that Reason had not complete 
 possession of her throne while he remained at the 
 Glen. No one meeting him at this time would have 
 suspected he was the victim of dementia ; though 
 it was generally known he was out of health, which 
 accounted for his evident wish for retirement. 
 
 The doctor's suite of rooms opened upon one of 
 the piazzas, and here in a shady corner, made by 
 the angle of the house, he seemed to have found a 
 spot which suited his fancy, where, in his easy 
 chair, with a book or paper before him, he read or 
 dozed the greater part of the day. 
 
 Coming upon him here one morning, Jessie found 
 the opportunity she had so long sought, of speak- 
 ing with him alone. After commenting upon the 
 fine view which his position commanded, she at 
 
 109
 
 I IO JESSIE RENEWS HER PROMISE. 
 
 once broached the subject uppermost in her 
 thoughts. 
 
 " Doctor," she said, " I have wanted for a long 
 time to tell you how the letter, which you gave 
 me last fall, has troubled me. I ought not to have 
 taken it ; but I tried so hard afterward to give it 
 back to you ; for, you see, I am not yet of age, and 
 so am responsible to my guardians. I have no 
 right to assume such a trust, since I could not ful- 
 fill it without their consent." Jessie had spoken 
 rapidly, both from force of feeling, and fearing 
 interruption before she should have explained her 
 position. 
 
 But, to her surprise, the doctor heard her 
 through without any attempt at remonstrance. 
 When she had finished, he said quietly : 
 
 " Is that all the scruple that you have, child ? 
 You may be a middle-aged woman before you are 
 called upon to execute the trust to which you 
 refer. I am not an old man, though trouble has 
 given me that appearance ; and I may have 
 many years to wait yet before I lay my burden 
 down." 
 
 The doctor spoke sadly, and also as if weary of 
 the matter ; but, raising his eyes, they rested upon
 
 JESSIE RENEWS HER PROMISE. I I I 
 
 Jessie's face, the pain and pallor of which seemed 
 to move him strongly. 
 
 " God forbid that I should lay any part of my 
 burden upon your shoulders, child ; rather consign 
 to the flames the miserable confession which, after 
 all, can never wipe out the wrong done." 
 
 While the doctor was speaking, Jessie was seized 
 with deep compunction that she had ever hesitated 
 about what now seemed both a duty and privilege. 
 
 " Forgive me, doctor ! I will have no more scru- 
 ples ; I think I did not realize my trust and privi- 
 lege. I will gladly give you this assurance : that if 
 I live I will faithfully carry out your wishes in this 
 matter," she said earnestly. 
 
 Her words and manner evidently carried convic- 
 tion of her changed purpose to the doctor's heart, 
 for he uttered a fervent " God bless you ! " and 
 presently spoke of other matters as if this were 
 settled. 
 
 Jessie did not again allude to the letter in her 
 possession, nor did she allow the secret between 
 them to put any constraint upon her future inter- 
 course with the doctor. But in every way in her 
 power, she strove to show kindness to the man 
 whose trouble had made him sacred in her eyes.
 
 112 JESSIE RENEWS HER PROMISE. 
 
 Mrs. Carrol fully appreciated these considerate 
 attentions which were so evidently pleasing to her 
 husband, and which distinguished him as the re- 
 cipient. For Jessie Norberry's favor was much 
 courted in the house, and those whom she honored 
 with her regard were considered furtunate beyond 
 their fellows. 
 
 Mrs. Carrol watched with all a mother's interest 
 her son's growing attachment for Jessie, whom she 
 had herself long loved for her many winning 
 qualities, and whom she earnestly hoped some 
 day to welcome to a daughter's place in her heart. 
 
 It was for Jessie's sake that Mrs. Carrol sought 
 to be friends with Mrs. Wilson ; and the latter's 
 armor of reserve was not long proof against the 
 genuine womanly grace and kindliness of spirit 
 which distinguished the doctor's wife. To know 
 Mrs. Carrol was to love and trust her, notwith- 
 standing the quiet dignity which forbade any over- 
 stepping of the bounds which she might herself 
 lay down. 
 
 Not only did the doctor's wife commend herself 
 to Mrs. Wilson's judgment, as in every respect a 
 lady, but she soon came to fill her conception of a 
 grand woman. So, it is hardly necessary to add,
 
 JESSIE RENEWS HER PROMISE. 113 
 
 she did not trouble herself about Milton Carrol's 
 antecedents while she was daily growing to love 
 and honor his mother. 
 
 Though Mrs. Wilson's health had much im- 
 proved, there were still days when she shut her- 
 self away from every one, unless it. was the doctor's 
 wife. In her sympathy she found a subtle sweet- 
 ness, no less pleasant for being new to her. For, 
 though Mrs. Carrol herself possessed a fine 
 healthy physique, she was sufficiently acquainted 
 with disease to know that Mrs. Wilson's trouble 
 was one of the least understood of any of the ills 
 to which human flesh is heir ; and, while the 
 former was physically unconscious of possessing 
 nerves, she knew her poor friend was often sensible 
 of little else. 
 
 Jessie soon noticed that her aunt came more 
 quickly than formerly out of these attacks of pain, 
 and the girl felt convinced that her kind friend 
 had much to do with this improvement. 
 
 One day when Mrs. Wilson had shut herself up 
 with a severe headache, affirming her inability to 
 sit up for a moment, Jessie was surprised to find 
 her, the latter part of the afternoon, enjoying the 
 breeze on the piazza, and discussing, with a group
 
 I 14 JESSIE RENEWS HER PROMISE. 
 
 of ladies, a projected excursion for the following 
 day. 
 
 But Jessie felt that her aunt's sudden recovery 
 was explained when Martha told her that a few 
 moments after her aunt had dismissed her from 
 the sick-room, Mrs. Carrol had come in and 
 spent the morning with the invalid. That there 
 is nothing like change of place and thought for 
 nervous pain, the doctor's wife had had many oc- 
 casions to prove, and she urged her experience 
 with faithful persistence in Mrs. Wilson's case. 
 
 As Jessie passed her friend at the tea-table that 
 evening, she stopped and whispered in her ear, 
 
 " I have always suspected, Mrs. Carrol, that you 
 were a sorceress, and now I am sure of it ; but I 
 will tell no one if you will teach me your art." To 
 which Mrs. Carrol laughingly responded : " Ah, 
 leave me my one gift. You are sufficiently endowed 
 already ; with any more arts you would be dan- 
 gerous." 
 
 " Then you own to having practised your spells 
 upon aunty ? But look at her now ! Who would 
 believe that only this morning she was giving out 
 sick-room orders for a week."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 NEARLY A DENOUEMENT. 
 
 THE young people in the hotel were planning 
 to spend a night on Mt. Washington, in 
 order to have the much vaunted experience of see- 
 ing the sun rise from that height, and for more than 
 a week this projected excursion had been the main 
 topic of interest among them. 
 
 Having made the ascent of this mountain once 
 during the summer, Jessie declined joining this 
 party, thinking it would trouble her aunt if she 
 were away for the night. But her friends were 
 not willing to leave her behind, so they changed 
 their plans somewhat, and invited several of the 
 older ladies to chaperone them, and among others 
 Mrs. Wilson, before whom they laid the matter, 
 declaring that all their pleasure would be spoiled 
 if she and her niece were not of the company. 
 
 Whether she was most moved by the flattery 
 which would have had her believe her presence 
 indispensable on this occasion, or the desire to 
 
 "5
 
 I 1 6 NEARLY A DENOUEMENT. 
 
 give Jessie a surprise and pleasure, as she affirmed, 
 it is certain she promised to go. 
 
 " Why, Aunty, you cannot mean it. You would 
 not be able to bear the fatigue which would be 
 sure to bring on one of your headaches," Jessie 
 exclaimed, on learning her aunt's design, but with 
 strange persistency the latter adhered to her pur- 
 pose, though half regretting having made it. 
 
 The party bade fair to be a gay one, and every 
 arrangement that could conduce to their comfort 
 was amply made. The young people were to ac- 
 complish the ascent on horseback, leaving their 
 elders to the easier, but less romantic journey by 
 the carriage road. 
 
 The morning proved auspicious, and the party 
 left the Glen in high spirits. With the exception 
 of a slight shower when about half-way up the 
 mountain, nothing occurred to mar the pleasure of 
 the ascent. A few hours later hampers were un- 
 packed in the Tip-Top House, whose walls, per- 
 haps, never echoed to a jollier crowd of revellers 
 than those who now broke a five hours' fast. 
 
 A glorious sunset, whose rosy light made a gor- 
 geous panorama of mountain, vale and forest, was 
 witnessed by the party, and not till the luminary
 
 NEARLY A DENOUEMENT. II? 
 
 had entirely disappeared from sight, and grotesque 
 shadows were stealing abroad, did any one feel 
 inclined to go indoors. A roaring wood fire lit up 
 the grim old room, where sets were soon formed 
 for dancing, and presently the whole company, 
 with one or two exceptions, entered heartily into 
 this amusement. 
 
 The altitude of their surroundings seemed to 
 have an exhilarating effect upon the party, for 
 spirits, which two hours before had flagged from 
 bodily weariness, now apparently rose superior to 
 the law of physics. 
 
 A little after midnight, Mr. Carrol proposed to 
 Jessie that they go out and take a peep at Nature, 
 in the weird solitude of the hour and place, and 
 she having wearied of dancing, welcomed the 
 change at once. A moment later they quitted the 
 house with a few friends whom they had asked to 
 join them, Henry Germaine, and his sister and 
 betrothed. 
 
 " I think the world must have looked like this 
 to Noah when he left the ark," said Jessie, as she 
 stepped out into the night. " This might be 
 Mount Ararat, and here, I am sure, are the waters, 
 while we are the only remnant of our kind."
 
 Il8 NEARLY A DENOUEMENT. 
 
 The girl's vivid imagination had instantly evoked 
 this picture, which was indeed borne out by the 
 surroundings, presenting as they did a fair repre- 
 sentation of that scene of chaos ; for though the 
 atmosphere was clear on the summit, clouds lay 
 all below it, and these billowy-looking masses of 
 vapor could be compared to nothing but the waves 
 of the sea. In fact, a boundless ocean seemed to 
 lie all about them, while a crescent moon lit up 
 the scene, throwing into strong relief the little 
 group, and the old ark of shelter they had just 
 quitted. 
 
 The feeling of isolation from the rest of the 
 world was for a moment terribly real to the whole 
 party, impressed as they were by the solitude and 
 strangeness of the scene. 
 
 " I must have aunty come out a moment ; she 
 should not lose this," Jessie said, stepping back 
 into the house a moment after leaving it. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson somewhat reluctantly yielded to 
 her niece's entreaties to put a shawl about her and 
 come out ; but when she had done so she seemed 
 more impressed by the coldness of the atmosphere 
 than the strange phenomena Nature presented, 
 and presently, making the plea that she would
 
 NEARLY A DENOUEMENT. IIQ 
 
 certainly have an attack of neuralgia if she stayed 
 a moment longer, returned to the house again. 
 
 " How awfully grand it is," was Jessie's ejacula- 
 tion, after standing a moment wrapped in contem- 
 plation. 
 
 " Yes, grand almost to fearfulness," returned 
 her companion ; and added, " some people would 
 tell us we were tempting Fate to stand here ; that 
 it is uncanny to seek to gaze upon Nature in her 
 primeval retreat." 
 
 " Her loving children have certainly nothing to 
 fear from her, and it is only to them that she re- 
 veals herself," was Jessie's rejoinder. 
 
 The rest of the party had strolled on, but their 
 voices could plainly be heard by the two who had 
 stood for a moment lost in the grandeur of the 
 scene : 
 
 " How the particles of mica glisten in the moon- 
 light. Our mother earth has adorned herself with 
 all her gems to-night." A moment later Jessie 
 stooped to gather a cluster of mountain daisies 
 which had caught her eye, and which she gayly 
 affirmed she would keep as a memento of this 
 night. Seeing more of these delicate white blos- 
 soms just beyond, and thinking to complete her
 
 I2O NEARLY A DENOUEMENT. 
 
 bouquet with them, she sprang toward the spot, 
 and the next instant, with a stifled scream, she had 
 disappeared as completely as if the mountain had 
 opened and swallowed her up. 
 
 The ground had seemed to give way beneath 
 her feet, and she found herself sliding down, down, 
 without the power to stop or even cry out. In 
 another moment she would probably have lost all 
 consciousness from fright, but her course was sud- 
 denly checked. A clump of bushes had stayed 
 her feet. Then she heard, as if far away, a cheer- 
 ing voice bidding her not to be frightened, and 
 the assurance that she was safe. Then a pair of 
 strong arms were about her, and she was lifted 
 from the perilous spot, and carried, she could never 
 afterward tell how, to a place of safety. 
 
 " Are you sure you can stand ? I think you had 
 better not try," said the same kindly voice, and 
 presently she found herself sitting on the firm 
 earth, where her preserver had placed her. 
 
 Milton Carrol had never won a greater victory 
 over himself than when he conquered the desire 
 to fold this girl to his heart with the uttered en- 
 dearment which sprang to his lips. 
 
 "Now you can take breath. Thank God, it is
 
 NEARLY A DENOUEMENT. 121 
 
 still left to you," he said fervently, as he put her 
 out of his arms. 
 
 " I think I was faint for a moment, but I am all 
 right now," were Jessie's first words when speech 
 and volition returned to her, and then, noting her 
 companion's solicitude, she made a brave effort to 
 command her still quivering nerves, and recovered 
 herself sufficiently to speak calmly of her late peril, 
 and his quick and valorous rescue of her. 
 
 Milton Carrol could only feel thankful that he 
 had resisted the weakness which would have be- 
 trayed his heart, since he felt sure it would have 
 distressed and pained her ; for, in the sweet face 
 raised to his own, was only to be read gratitude 
 for his kindness. The fact that for a moment her 
 head had lain upon his shoulder, and her heat beat 
 near his own, did not make her now shrink from 
 his glance. 
 
 " I am sorry to have so frightened you. But 
 really I am not hurt. Do not feel in the least 
 anxious about me." 
 
 As she spoke, Jessie was wiping from her hands 
 the loose earth that still clung to them. 
 
 " If you had been hurt I should never have for- 
 given myself. I cannot think of your escape with-
 
 122 NEARLY A DENOUEMENT. 
 
 out a shudder, and I shall always blame myself 
 that I did not take better care of you." 
 
 " Oh ! please do not look at it that way. You 
 make me ashamed of my carelessness ; and pray do 
 not tell aunty, for it would be sure to give her a 
 shock. There she is now, looking for us." 
 
 As Jessie spoke Mr. Carrol turned and saw Mrs. 
 Wilson's face pressed against the window pane. 
 
 " I will go and speak to her ; evidently she is 
 anxious about me," Jessie said, rising ; but though 
 she had thought herself sufficiently recovered to 
 carry out this purpose, she was glad of the friendly 
 arm offered, for without its support her limbs 
 would hardly have obeyed the bidding of her will. 
 
 " We are coming in presently, Aunty," she called 
 out as they came near the house ; for Mrs. Wilson 
 had raised the window on seeing them. 
 
 " Why, where have you been ? " she exclaimed, on 
 their coming into view, calling Jessie's attention 
 to her wrap, which was covered with yellow mould. 
 
 " This is only the natural result of an intimate 
 acquaintance with mother earth," was Mr. Car- 
 rol's response. " Miss Jessie has been sitting in 
 the maternal lap, and has brought away evidence 
 of our good mother's embrace."
 
 NEARLY A DENOUEMENT. 12$ 
 
 A grateful glance from his companion amply re- 
 warded him for the effort he had made to divert 
 her aunt's attention, and which seemed to have 
 the desired effect, as Mrs. Wilson said no more 
 about the matter, but suggested that they should 
 come in at once. 
 
 This Jessie would have done, but Mr. Carrol 
 urged waiting for their friends ; for he saw that 
 her nervous agitation would be likely to betray 
 just what he knew she wished to conceal, namely, 
 that something had happened to disturb her 
 greatly. 
 
 " Our friends must return presently, and then 
 we will all go in together," he said, hoping that 
 thus any unusual nervousness on Jessie's part 
 might escape notice. 
 
 But he at once made an effort to brush the 
 fresh mould from her wrap, that it might not fur- 
 ther betray her, and ere this was accomplished the 
 voices of their late companions met their ears. 
 
 "Why ! Where have you been all this time ? " 
 Henry Germaine called out as he caught sight of 
 Mr. Carrol and Jessie. 
 
 " Where have we been ? You had better an- 
 swer that question for yourselves," was Mr. Car-
 
 124 NEARLY A DENOUEMENT. 
 
 rol's response. " Miss Jessie and I have just come 
 from the house" (so they had from that direction). 
 " It did not take us many moments to become dis- 
 gusted with a midnight ramble up here in the 
 clouds. We were looking for you now, and had 
 about come to the conclusion that you had gone 
 back to the Glen." 
 
 Henry Germaine laughed. "We just walked 
 down the road a short distance. It was too cold 
 to stand still, and we thought you would follow. 
 When you did not, I thought something had hap- 
 pened." 
 
 " You did not think we had fallen into one of 
 these gorges without making any outcry to alarm 
 our friends, did you ? We are heroic and self- 
 sacrificing to the last degree, but we should hardly 
 do that." 
 
 This banter seemed to have the desired effect 
 of dissipating from his friend's mind any suspicion 
 of their having been detained by a mishap, and 
 satisfied himself that Jessie's cry had not been 
 heard. 
 
 Now that her secret would be safe, he was ready 
 to go in, and a moment later was leading the way 
 to the house.
 
 NEARLY A DENOUEMENT. 125 
 
 To Germaine's jest that he expected mountain- 
 dew would be at a premium on the morrow, Jessie 
 laughingly replied, that she had not thought of 
 making a corner in the same, or she would not so 
 carelessly have lost the blossoms she had gathered. 
 
 On her way to the house she found an oppor- 
 tunity to thank Mr. Carrol for so thoughtfully 
 screening her mishap from their companions ; for 
 to have been the object of their commiseration 
 would have been the keenest torture to her sen- 
 sitive nature. 
 
 "You owe me no thanks, Miss Jessie ; you long 
 ago cancelled any favor I might do you, by your 
 kindness to my father ; and besides, this accident 
 would not have come about had I been equal to 
 my trust," was the gallant response. 
 
 Before the days of steam on Mt. Washington, 
 persons spending the night on the summit, made 
 little account of sleeping away any of its hours. 
 The present company at least had no thought of do- 
 ing so, and when interest in dancing had died out, 
 blind-man's-buff, forfeits, and other games followed, 
 till the night was past, and sunrise heralded. 
 
 Warm wraps were then in demand, and the 
 greater part of the company went out-of-doors to
 
 126 NEARLY A DENOUEMENT. 
 
 witness the ascent of old Sol into the heavens, 
 from the low-lying fog and vapor, which gave him 
 the appearance of rising out of the sea. Not a 
 cold, dark expanse of water, but a gold and amber 
 sea through which the form of the great luminary 
 could be faintly descried before its rim shot into 
 sight. For the little party on the summit had wit- 
 nessed the miracle of a second sunrise, when the 
 great orb of day appeared above the sea of mist 
 and vapor which bounded their horizon. 
 
 It was now bitterly cold, the temperature having 
 fallen several degrees since daylight ; so after hav- 
 ing seen the sun fairly started on his day's jour- 
 ney through the heavens, the party were glad to 
 get indoors again, to the hot coffee and breakfast, 
 which now awaited them. 
 
 Jessie was not a little surprised to find her aunt 
 moving actively about, assisting in the prepara- 
 tions. Evidently she was feeling none the worse 
 for her night's dissipation ; the novel experience 
 of being without her maid (for she had left Martha 
 at the hotel) seemed to make her forget the con- 
 ventionalities to which she had been so long tied, 
 for she was entering heartily into the spirit of mer- 
 riment that presided over this impromptu meal.
 
 NEARLY A DENOUEMENT. I2/ 
 
 Before leaving the summit for their descent, 
 Jessie visited the scene of her accident, and on see- 
 ing the spot by daylight was surprised that the dis- 
 tance of her fall was so much less than she had sup- 
 posed. 
 
 It proved to be a growth of scrubby bushes which 
 had intercepted it, but these were the only vege- 
 tation about. Had they not been strong enough 
 to have held her she would, perhaps, have gone on 
 the jagged rocks below. 
 
 " Why, it seemed such a long way that I went 
 down! I felt I would never stop," she said, turn- 
 ing with a nervous shiver from the spot which had 
 been so full of peril to her. " I don't see how you 
 came to me so quickly, and much less how you got 
 me up again." 
 
 " I think you were hardly conscious when I 
 reached you, for you did not speak till I had you 
 half-way up, then you said something about put- 
 ting me to trouble. It was such a relief to hear 
 your voice that I think at that moment I could 
 have climbed the Himalayas with you." 
 
 " I am glad you were not put to the test," re- 
 turned Jessie, smiling. 
 
 He did not tell her that he bad only that morn-
 
 128 NEARLY A DENOUEMENT. 
 
 ing repeated what she seemed to think a great 
 climbing feat, for a cluster of wilted daisies, from 
 which he had tenderly brushed the mould, and 
 which for many a day he would keep as a precious 
 memento of herself. 
 
 Soon after starting on their descent, Mr. Carrol 
 found that one of the fore shoes of his horse was 
 loose. He tightened it as well as he could, and 
 for the first mile went along very well ; then his 
 horse began slipping. He was thinking seriously 
 of removing the shoe altogether, when the animal 
 stumbled and came down upon his knees, at the 
 same time bringing his rider's shoulder in violent 
 contact with one of the immense rocks which here 
 overhung the narrow path. The next moment he 
 was lying senseless in the road, where he had 
 fallen. 
 
 As it happened, Mr. Germaine was the only per- 
 son who witnessed this accident, he being directly 
 behind his friend, while the rest of the party were 
 ahead. Jumping from his horse, he tenderly raised 
 the head of the prostrate man, fearing that the 
 blow had killed him. On being moved, Mr. Carrol 
 opened his eyes, and seemed at once to compre- 
 hend what had happened.
 
 NEARLY A DENOUEMENT. 
 
 "I am all right," he said, attempting to rise, but 
 the next moment, with a stifled groan, he had 
 fallen back in a faint. 
 
 " I am afraid that arm is broken." 
 
 Dismay was pictured on Germaine's face as he 
 examined the member which had fallen limp at 
 the unconscious man's side. 
 
 To have help was the first thing necessary, and 
 Germaine shouted to those ahead to stop. 
 
 Before any one could reach them, Mr. Carrol 
 again revived, and declared his injury confined to 
 his right arm ; but that was indeed broken, as his 
 friend had feared. 
 
 What was to be done ? Help could not be ren- 
 dered here. Evidently there could be no relief 
 for the sufferer till he was got home, which must 
 be clone as quickly as possible. The injured mem- 
 ber was, after some delay, confined in a sling, 
 and then various methods were suggested for his 
 transit. 
 
 Meanwhile his horse was pawing the ground 
 with his loosened shoe, and whinnying as if trying 
 to explain why he had thrown his master, by draw- 
 ing attention to his own disability. 
 
 " I know it, poor fellow, you were not to blame,"
 
 I3O NEARLY A DENOUEMENT. 
 
 said the injured man, who called the beast to him, 
 and with a few kindly strokes of the shapely head, 
 seemed to reassure him that it was all right. 
 
 Of course the animal could not be mounted 
 again by his master, whose avoirdupois greatly 
 added to the exigencies of the case. After several 
 attempts, however, his friends succeeded in getting 
 him upon Germaine's horse, and that gentleman 
 insisted upon leading the animal, whose every mo- 
 tion was evidently a torture to the sufferer. 
 
 Mr. Carrol's horse, whose shoe had been re- 
 moved, was also led by one of the party, and in 
 this way they proceeded down the mountain. 
 
 Though no groan escaped the injured man, his 
 friends who kept a constant watch upon him, and 
 noted the occasionally sudden paling of his cheek, 
 and the lines about his mouth growing hard and 
 tense, felt they would be only too thankful when 
 the descent should be accomplished. 
 
 A level road would have tested his powers of 
 endurance in no small degree ; but the ruts and 
 jutting bowlders of the old bridle path made eques- 
 trianism trying in the best estate. 
 
 " Don't faint, old boy, and land in one of these 
 gulches ; for we might not be able to- fish you out
 
 NEARLY A DENOUEMENT. 13! 
 
 again," Germaine said with ill-assumed noncha- 
 lance when they started ; but he soon saw that his 
 friend's powerful will and iron nerve would carry 
 him through. 
 
 And so it proved, for when they reached the 
 hotel, Milton Carrol even found strength to walk 
 to his mother's room, lest she should be alarmed 
 by hearing of his accident from others. 
 
 " I suppose I have brought you home a broken 
 arm, mother, as a souvenir of Mt. Washington ; 
 and it had best be attended to before my father 
 knows anything about it. Dr. Ellis will be in 
 presently. I have sent for him," he said, as if 
 announcing the most indifferent fact. 
 
 The delay in setting the broken bone had con- 
 siderably aggravated the case, and it was some 
 days before Mr. Carrol was able to leave his room ; 
 but he finally exchanged this seclusion for his 
 mother's private parlor, where he received the 
 visits of sympathizing friends. 
 
 " Oh ! I shall be about again in a few days," he 
 said to those who were disposed to condole with 
 him on his disability ; but the few days passed, 
 and still he did not quit his retirement, though the 
 broken arm was doing well.
 
 132 NEARLY A DENOUEMENT. 
 
 A term of unpropitious weather about this time 
 kept every one in-doors, and Jessie spent most of 
 her time in Mrs. Carrol's room. Perhaps the se- 
 cret of the invalid's being in no haste to get about 
 again lay in the above fact. Very certain it is 
 that if for any reason she was later than usual in 
 her daily visit, or happened to be called away, as 
 was not infrequently the case, he grew restless 
 and moody at once, a condition which disappeared 
 immediately when Jessie entered. 
 
 They were reading together some of the old 
 English and French authors, and more than one 
 lively discussion arose between them over these 
 works. Jessie was keenly alive intellectually, and 
 though religious in her nature, her mind was dis- 
 posed to speculation ; and her spiritual intuition 
 and acumen often surprised her companion, giving 
 him a glimpse of a nature rarely pure and gifted. 
 
 But while finding that she grew daily dearer to 
 him, as he learned better to appreciate her char- 
 acter, he was more and more convinced that her 
 pleasure in his society was a purely intellectual 
 one ; that in their delightful chats her mind simply 
 found the stimulus of friction, and in this fact lay 
 his chief and only attraction for her.
 
 NEARLY A DENOUEMENT. 133 
 
 He often found himself envying the man to 
 whom he believed she had given her heart. But 
 the better he became acquainted with Jessie the 
 more puzzled was he that a girl of her gay, ex- 
 uberant spirit should fancy a person like Doctor 
 Forney ; a brilliant icicle, as he mentally termed 
 his supposed rival. 
 
 It must be that she had been captivated by the 
 doctor's acquirements and position, as a man of 
 learning and letters. These would naturally have 
 a great attraction for one who valued intellectual 
 gifts as she did ; but would these things satisfy 
 her heart ? 
 
 Would this girl who was all feeling, who would 
 live in her affections, be happy with one so entirely 
 her opposite ? Milton Carrol thought he knew 
 her better than she knew herself ; and his heart 
 cried out at the sacrifice. The temptation to try 
 and save her from such a mistake, even though 
 her salvation should work him no weal, was often 
 strong upon him.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A NEW LEAF TURNED. 
 
 THE last of October found Mrs. Wilson and 
 her niece back in Boston, where, after 
 their late residence with Nature, the city seemed 
 cramped and close, and to shut them in like a wall. 
 
 " I will go to Newbury next week. Perhaps 
 they are only waiting for me to signify a desire to 
 come home, since I am no longer a child to be 
 sent back and forth at another's will. They have 
 been leaving me the choice, and I have been blind 
 not to see it in that light," was Jessie's thought, 
 when the question as to what she was to do with 
 herself presented itself. 
 
 When she made known this decision to her 
 Aunt Wilson, that lady begged she would not go 
 at once ; and she seemed so troubled at the thought 
 of losing her, that Jessie felt constrained to yield 
 to her wishes, though she at once wrote her aunt 
 Kitty that she might look for her early in Novem- 
 ber.
 
 A NEW LEAF TURNED. 135 
 
 Mrs. Wilson had ere this realized that Jessie's 
 indisposition of the spring and early summer, had 
 been occasioned by the narrow, restricted life she 
 had led, and that she would never endure another 
 such season. If she were to succeed in keeping 
 Jessie with her, it was evident she must bring 
 some life into her house ; accordingly, before they 
 had been two weeks at home, Mrs. Wilson wrote 
 Carrie Winter, inviting her to come and spend the 
 next few months with them. She knew her niece's 
 friend was desirous of taking music lessons of a 
 certain artist in the profession, and as this would 
 give her the opportunity, she did not doubt the 
 girl would gladly avail herself of it. 
 
 And so it proved : but that young lady was 
 scarcely a fortnight in the city when Mrs. Wilson's 
 house was turned completely upside down ; for 
 that lady had given her niece carte blanche, and 
 Jessie's first use of her power was to refurnish 
 some of the grim old rooms, which soon presented 
 so cheerful and bright an appearance that its mis- 
 tress hardly felt at home in them. 
 
 Its mistress, we said, but Mrs. Wilson was no 
 longer the ordering spirit of her home ; for she 
 had given the menage also entirely into the hands
 
 136 A NEW LEAF TURNED. 
 
 of her two young visitors, who were playing at 
 housekeeping in a high-handed original way that 
 nearly sent the servants distracted. Meals were 
 ordered at unprecedented hours, while the house 
 overflowed with bright young company. 
 
 " Jessie, you remember Mr. Carrol is to be in 
 town this week, and I invited him here to dine 
 Thursday, though I believe I did not mention it to 
 you. What do you think of asking Doctor Forney 
 and his sister to meet him ? " Mrs. Wilson asked, 
 looking closely at her niece as she put this ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " Was it this week he was to be in town ? I had 
 forgotten. Yes ; if you have invited him it would 
 be well to ask some one else, and I believe Doc- 
 tor Carrol and Doctor Forney's father were old 
 friends." 
 
 Jessie spoke, as her aunt thought, quite indif- 
 ferently. Was it possible she had forgotten Mr. 
 Carrol was to be in the city that week? 
 
 Mrs. Wilson had often of late questioned in her 
 mind whether there had really been anything, after 
 all, between her niece and the doctor's son, as she 
 had supposed. Jessie had parted from Mr. Carrol 
 as she had from other pleasant summer friends, and
 
 A NEW LEAF TURNED. 137 
 
 her aunt was confident there had been no communi- 
 cation between them since. 
 
 This morning she decided that she must have 
 been mistaken in supposing that there had been, 
 and dismissed the matter with a sense of relief. 
 Jessie could do better than to marry the doctor's 
 son. She was born to grace a different position 
 from what a plain farmer could give her, even 
 though that farmer were Milton Carrol. 
 
 That same afternoon Jessie and her friend were 
 on their way to Professor Roselle's, for their music 
 lesson, when they met Doctor Forney. 
 
 " Miss Jessie, I was just wishing I could see 
 you," the doctor said, after a cordial greeting to 
 her and her friend, whom he had several times 
 met. " I was even contemplating, this very mo- 
 ment, how I could find time to call on you before 
 to-morrow evening ; for I have tickets for Madame 
 Parodi's concert, which I want you and Miss Win- 
 ter should use." 
 
 It seemed the doctor had secured tickets to this 
 concert some time in advance, and now his sister, 
 and the friend who had expected to accompany 
 her, would not be able to go. 
 
 If Jessie and her friend Carrie would allow him
 
 138 A NEW LEAF TURNED. 
 
 to call for them on the evening in question, it 
 would give him great pleasure to do so. 
 
 The doctor's very cordial invitation they could 
 not decline, though it would have pleased Jessie 
 better had he not offered himself as their escort. 
 
 " If he would have allowed us to come down in 
 the carriage, and then met us at the hall, it would 
 have been just as well ; and would have saved him- 
 self a good deal of trouble. Waiting upon young 
 ladies, I fancy, is hardly in the doctor's way, and 
 I don't believe but that it is a bother to him," she 
 said, with a slight tone of annoyance, when he 
 had left them. 
 
 " Well, if it isn't in his way, it ought to be ; he 
 should be waiting upon his daughters by this time. 
 But since he has none of his own, the least he can 
 do is to wait upon other men's daughters," was 
 Carrie Winter's merry rejoinder. " I don't be- 
 lieve it is a very great trial to 1 -'m, either ; but I 
 think it was ever so nice of him to ask us. I 
 wanted to go to that concert so much, but did not 
 expect an escort would be forthcoming," she added, 
 with native frankness. 
 
 "A gentleman to see you, Miss." Jessie was 
 just rising from their late dinner, the following
 
 A NEW LEAF TURNED. 139 
 
 day, when this message was brought her. Going 
 to the parlor, she found Mr. Carrol standing before 
 one of Corot's loveliest twilights, so lost in con- 
 templation of the picture, that he did not hear her 
 till she spoke. 
 
 "Why, good afternoon, Mr. Carrol," she said, 
 with evident pleasure ; and then, " I see you were 
 admiring one of my favorites. 
 
 " Yes," he returned, releasing the hand she had 
 given him. " Corot's handling of such scenes is 
 wonderful. This is silver-toned almost to weird- 
 ness, suggesting something of the supernatural." 
 Then, turning from the picture, he inquired how 
 Jessie's health had been since her return from the 
 mountains. " But I need not ask," he added, 
 drawing his chair nearer to her. " You evidently 
 have not been pining in your exile," quoting one 
 of her own pleasantries in which he had heard her 
 refer to her indisposition of the previous spring. 
 
 " No ; I have been well. The exile has become 
 reconciled to her banishment," she returned, with 
 one of the rare bright glances he remembered so 
 well. " But how is everybody at home ? I did not 
 think when I left the mountains to stay away from 
 Newbury so long."
 
 I4O A NEW LEAF TURNED. 
 
 " But pleasure has held you captive in her chains," 
 Mr. Carrol interposed, with a smile which was per- 
 haps the least bit cynical. 
 
 " Yes ; one thing after another has seemed to 
 prevent my going to Newbury, and now my friend 
 Carrie Winter is here. But tell me everything 
 that has happened. Have you seen the boys 
 lately ? and how are your father and mother ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I saw your cousins only yesterday, and 
 they sent a great deal of love to you, with the in- 
 junction that you were to come home directly or 
 they would come and bring you. My mother is 
 very well, and sent kind remembrances ; but I am 
 sorry to say my father has not justified our hopes 
 for him. He does not go out now, and is appar- 
 ently losing strength." An anxious, careworn ex- 
 pression crossed Mr. Carrol's face while speaking 
 of his father. 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that. He seemed so well 
 during the summer." Jessie spoke absently, and 
 Mr. Carrol at once changed the subject, but he 
 was recalled to it a moment later by her asking if 
 there had been any return of his father's mental 
 malady. 
 
 Jessie had hesitated before asking this question ;
 
 A NEW LEAF TURNED. 14! 
 
 but she wished very much to satisfy her mind on 
 this matter. 
 
 " No, he has not had any return of that trouble ; 
 his mind seems clear. He has apparently forgot- 
 ten his old hallucination, for it is months now 
 since he has spoken of it." 
 
 For a few moments after this Jessie was 
 strangely abstracted ; then she seemed to rally her 
 wandering thoughts, and was again her old viva- 
 cious self. 
 
 When Mr. Carrol finally accused her of having 
 deserted old friends for new, she laughingly re- 
 plied that she was only testing them, as she wished 
 to prove if they would be really glad to have her 
 back again. 
 
 " But it is too bad to punish Allan and Roger," 
 she added ; " I know they really miss me, and since 
 I cannot go home at present, I must have them 
 here for a visit. I wonder I had not thought of 
 it before. I know aunty will try and endure their 
 invasion for a week." 
 
 This reminded Mr. Carrol to inquire for Mrs. 
 Wilson's health. 
 
 " Aunty has been quite a marvel to me since 
 she came home. You would hardly believe what
 
 142 A NEW LEAF TURNED. 
 
 a difference the summer has made in her health 
 and habits. Why, she goes about quite like other 
 people now. I will speak to her, for she would be 
 disappointed not to see you. I believe she is 
 counting upon a visit from you while here." 
 
 Ringing the bell for a servant, Jessie added, " I 
 shall have to beg you to excuse me, Mr. Carrol, 
 for I have an engagement this evening. Carrie 
 and myself are going to hear Madame Parodi. 
 Perhaps you were intending to go to the concert ? " 
 
 " No ; I was not fortunate enough to get a ticket ; 
 they have all been sold for several days," Mr. 
 Carrol returned ; " but I am glad you are to have 
 such a treat. I heard Parodi when she was here 
 before, and then her voice was exquisite. But do 
 not let me detain you. I will stay a moment and 
 see Mrs. Wilson, and then I will go back to the 
 hotel, as I expect a friend to call upon me this 
 evening." 
 
 Jessie quitted the room a few moments after her 
 aunt entered, for she found on consulting her watch 
 that she had no time to spare if she would not 
 keep the doctor waiting. So quickly exchanging 
 her dinner dress for a black silk, she donned her 
 street garments, and as she entered one door of
 
 A NEW LEAF TURNED. 143 
 
 the parlor to take leave of Mr. Carrol, Doctor For- 
 ney was shown in by another. 
 
 Introductions followed, and the doctor expressed 
 himself pleased to meet the son of his father's old 
 friend. If Mr. Carrol found less pleasure in this 
 encounter, he was at least his own courteous self. 
 
 Some fifteen minutes later when he left Mrs. 
 Wilson's house, he had promised to dine with her 
 the following day. 
 
 He would now have the opportunity he had de- 
 sired of seeing Jessie and the doctor together, 
 when he was sure he could judge something of the 
 relation in which they stood to each other. If 
 she loved him, her naturally impulsive nature was 
 sure to betray it in some way ; and with this knowl- 
 edge Milton Carrol felt it would be easier to sur- 
 render all hope of her himself. 
 
 But if on the contrary he saw any reason to 
 think that her heart was not wholly given to this 
 man, he would not leave the city without declaring 
 himself, and making an effort to win her.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THWARTED PURPOSES. 
 
 TELEGRAM, sir ; came just after you went 
 out," was the salutation Mr. Carrol met as 
 he entered the Tremont House, where he always 
 stopped when in the city. 
 
 Hastily tearing off the envelope, he learned that 
 his father had been suddenly taken ill, and his 
 mother feared the worst, and desired his imme- 
 diate return. 
 
 " Has any one inquired for me ? " he asked of 
 the messenger boy who still lingered. 
 
 " No, sir ; I have been right here, and I haven't 
 seen any one." 
 
 One glance at the office clock had shown Mr. 
 Carrol that he would not have time to catch the 
 eight o'clock train, as it was now nearly that time ; 
 he must wait for the later one. 
 
 "Can I do anything for you, sir?" The boy 
 had waited for his customary tip, and as it was not 
 
 144
 
 THWARTED PURPOSES. 145 
 
 forthcoming, had thought the gentleman needed 
 reminding. 
 
 " No yes ! Wait here. You may carry a let- 
 ter when I have written it," Mr. Carrol said, turn- 
 ing to the clerk's desk. 
 
 The first thing to be done was to send a tele- 
 gram to his mother, telling her that he would come 
 on the midnight express. The next to write a note 
 to Mrs. Wilson, explaining his inability to keep 
 his engagement on the morrow. 
 
 After dispatching the messenger with this note 
 and making his preparations to leave the city, Mr. 
 Carrol found that he still had considerable time 
 upon his hands, which in his present restless mood 
 he would gladly have annihilated. 
 
 A few moments later he was watching the crowd 
 as it poured out of Music Hall, which had been 
 densely packed by the admirers of the great singer. 
 If he had come here hoping to get another sight 
 of the fair face which haunted all his thoughts, he 
 was rewarded ; for, in crossing the sidewalk to her 
 carriage, Jessie passed so near him that the sleeve 
 of her velvet cloak touched his arm. But she was 
 talking with the doctor about the evening's enter- 
 ment, and took no cognizance of the dark earnest
 
 146 THWARTED PURPOSES. 
 
 eyes which in that brief moment flashed in admira- 
 tion upon her. 
 
 Stopping long enough to see the doctor take 
 leave of Jessie and her friend, after putting them 
 into the carriage, Milton Carrol turned and walked 
 rapidly in the direction of the station. But he 
 took with him the remembrance of the bright, beau- 
 tiful face whose dazzling fairness had been en- 
 hanced by the sombre but elegant hat and cloak 
 which had been a fit setting for it. 
 
 But he also took with him another remembrance, 
 that of the fortune which made this girl indepen- 
 dent, and which now seemed to widen the distance 
 between them. 
 
 In Newbury Jessie had always dressed simply ; 
 he had forgotten to associate with her the bonds 
 and bank stock which had been her inheritance. 
 
 Jessie's fortune had come to her from her mother ; 
 for Allan Norberry had been too devoted to his 
 literary pursuits to amass money. His treasures 
 were purely mental, and these he could not be- 
 queath in pounds, shillings and pence to his orphan 
 child ; but, happily, her mother's fortune had pre- 
 vented his daughter from being dependent upon 
 her relatives.
 
 THWARTED PURPOSES. 147 
 
 Milton Carrol, we say, remembered this, and it 
 proved to be the last feather that turned the scale 
 against him. 
 
 He knew that the Norberrys were very proud of 
 their old family name, and that they would look 
 high for the daughter of its most honored son. 
 Doubtless they would favor a match with Doctor 
 Forney, whose fortune was equal to her own ; and 
 who could give her the social position she was en- 
 titled to hold. While, on the other hand, what 
 had he to offer her? Nothing but his love; not 
 even an untarnished name. 
 
 When Jessie returned from the concert she 
 found her aunt in quite a dismal state of mind 
 over the note she had that evening received. 
 
 " It's too bad, Aunty, but Mr. Carrol will be 
 coming up again. You will have another oppor- 
 tunity to bring him and the doctor together," she 
 said, trying to console her aunt for what was evi- 
 dently quite a disappointment. 
 
 " Yes ; but Doctor Forney will come, of course, 
 and it will be so stupid and awkward for him to 
 find himself the only gentleman," returned her 
 aunt ruefully. 
 
 "If he does, he can easily make some excuse
 
 148 THWARTED PURPOSES. 
 
 and escape. I don't see that we can help it now," 
 responded Jessie, who seemingly did not share her 
 aunt's annoyance. 
 
 " Who ever heard of any man rinding a good 
 dinner stupid. I thought they were generally very 
 interesting occasions to them. Or is the learned 
 doctor in the habit of feasting only on the nectar 
 of the gods, that the food of common mortals is 
 liable to disturb his digestion ? Don't fear, Mrs. 
 Wilson," Carrie Winter gayly added; "leave him 
 to me, and I will see that he does not have a fit 
 of ennui over his dinner." 
 
 If the doctor were ever a victim to this disorder, 
 he was certainly not afflicted with it on this occa- 
 sion, for he seemed to thoroughly enjoy this din- 
 ing enfamille with his friends, though he expressed 
 regret that he was not to further his acquaintance 
 with Mr. Carrol, which would have given him 
 pleasure ; and showed not a little solicitude on 
 learning of Doctor Carrol's sudden illness. 
 
 While Jessie engaged Miss Forney in conversa- 
 tion, her lively friend Carrie had taken the doctor 
 by storm with some of her pet theories, and pres- 
 ently was enlarging upon the abject state of help- 
 lessness to which woman had been brought by her
 
 THWARTED PURPOSES. 149 
 
 long dependence upon man. But she expressed 
 the belief that the happy day was not far distant 
 when her weak and enfeebled sex would rise up 
 and throw off the conventional shackles which 
 had so long bound them, and prove themselves 
 equal to standing alone. 
 
 Jessie saw the gleam of mischief in her friend's 
 eye, and knew she had thrown this bomb for the 
 fun of the explosion, being well aware of the doc- 
 tor's decided conservatism. 
 
 Whether it was that he also understood this, or 
 that the graceful audacity of his fair assailant 
 amused and interested him, it would be hard to 
 say ; he laughed heartily, though he did not disdain 
 to take up the cudgels in defense of his opinions. 
 
 " Do you think women will be happier under the 
 new regime? or better wives and mothers?" he 
 asked with a smile. 
 
 " Yes ; a thousand times happier if they have 
 any spirit," returned the girl quickly. "As to 
 their being better wives and mothers, a great pro- 
 portion of women never are wives and mothers, 
 but those who are will certainly never be the worse 
 for standing on an equality of independence with 
 their husbands and sons."
 
 I 5O THWARTED PURPOSES. 
 
 Carrie Winter had been careful to use none of 
 the terms which are obnoxious from association, 
 and her eyes now plainly said, " Gainsay that if 
 you can." 
 
 Evidently the doctor did not care to attempt 
 this, but he made answer : 
 
 " I think some one has said that freedom is in 
 the air, and that our women breathe in its spirit 
 with their breath. I am inclined to think it is so, 
 for here is Harriet, who has always been my docile 
 and obedient pupil, often giving expression to sen- 
 timents she never learned from me ; talking about 
 the enfranchisement of women, as if the fulfil- 
 ment of all prophecy were only waiting for this." 
 
 "And who knows that it is not?" interposed 
 his sister. " I do not mean to imply that all this 
 depends upon the ballot being given them," she 
 added, "but when women are really enfranchised 
 from the petty, narrow life they have heretofore 
 too often led, and realize the grand possibilities 
 which are opening up to them, who shall say that 
 the dawn of the millenium has not come ? " 
 
 Without seeming to notice his sister's question, 
 the doctor continued, 
 
 " I do not see but that women now have all the
 
 THWARTED PURPOSES. 151 
 
 real privileges which men enjoy, without the re- 
 sponsibilities and demands which fall upon men. 
 To me they seem happily exempt in this respect." 
 
 " Yes, they do have some privileges. My friend 
 Jessie here has the privilege of paying a yearly 
 tax which perhaps one man in fifty may average, 
 for the support of the laws which she can have no 
 voice in making. If that tax were collected of 
 me," Carrie went on, " it should be at some trou- 
 ble to those who collected it. If I paid it, it 
 would be under protest every time, and those who 
 received it should have the consciousness of doing 
 a mean and unfair thing ; for I should feel it was 
 a duty I owed to all other women so situated, to 
 put it in this light." 
 
 Jessie had not intended to be brought into this 
 discussion, since she did not endorse all her friend's 
 radical views on this point, nor was she ready to 
 take the other side of the question, but she now 
 made answer, 
 
 " I have no doubt, Carrie, that in my place you 
 would have set a much more worthy example, for 
 I am afraid I have never given much thought to 
 the duty you speak of;" then, smiling at the doctor 
 as she quoted his words, she added, " My uncle has
 
 152 THWARTED PURPOSES. 
 
 met all such demands for me, and happily I have 
 been exempt from any responsibility in the mat- 
 ter." 
 
 At this moment Mrs. Wilson gave the signal for 
 rising, and thus put an end to the conversation 
 which she knew had become too personal to suit 
 the taste of her niece. 
 
 Jessie had feared that her friend's ultra views 
 might have a tendency to make her lose caste with 
 the doctor, but it did not so appear, for several 
 times afterward he deferred to her opinion in a 
 way that was at least flattering, when his years and 
 erudition were considered. Evidently he was in 
 no way repelled, but rather drawn toward this girl, 
 whose gay, insouciant manner seemed to have 
 piqued his interest and curiosity. 
 
 " Carrie, you have certainly made a conquest of 
 the doctor to-night. I never saw him so enter- 
 taining. What did you do to so wake him up ? " 
 Jessie said when she found herself alone with her 
 friend after their guests had gone. 
 
 "Oh ! I just tried to prevent his feeling dull and 
 bored, as I promised your aunt. Then you think 
 I succeeded ? " 
 
 "You certainly succeeded in pleasing him,
 
 THWARTED PURPOSES. 153 
 
 though I suspect he thinks you the least bit strong- 
 minded." 
 
 " Yes ; he is sure to do that, but he is not half 
 the old fossil I thought him ; though he is pretty 
 well encased in his shell of conservatism. 'Wives 
 and mothers' indeed; as if women had nothing else 
 to do in this world but to be wives and mothers. 
 I wanted to ask him why he had not helped some 
 good woman to fulfil her destiny, if he thinks they 
 have no other," was Carrie's spirited animadver- 
 sion upon the sentiment which had most provoked 
 her ire.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 PICTURES IN THE FIRE. 
 
 ALLEN and Roger Norberry came to Boston 
 with their father the following week, and 
 from her uncle Jessie learned that Doctor Carrol 
 was better. He had had a stroke of paralysis, but 
 seemed likely to recover the use of his limbs, which 
 he had partially lost. Even this was better than 
 the return of his old malady which Jessie had 
 feared. 
 
 Allan and Roger were to stay a week in the 
 city, and it was soon apparent that they would not 
 be at a loss how to put in the time. Allan de- 
 clared his intention of visiting all the shipping in 
 the harbor, after which he proposed to explore the 
 Arsenal and Navy Yard, the Cradle of Liberty 
 and Bunker Hill ; for, as he said, " It would never 
 do for a grammar-school boy to visit Boston with- 
 out seeing the spot where Warren fell ; " though 
 his curiosity seemed to centre about the Cradle. 
 
 Roger was modestly content to divide his time 
 '54
 
 PICTURES IN THE FIRE. 155 
 
 between the cabs and omnibuses, and the candy 
 stores. 
 
 Jessie had never found it hard to control her 
 cousins before, but either they had now outgrown 
 her, or the city had completely turned their heads, 
 for she was soon at her wits' end to know what to 
 do with them. 
 
 If in the house, they drove Mrs. Wilson nearly 
 distracted with their noise ; and when turned loose 
 upon the Common they were soon not to be found 
 short of the station house, where they were sure 
 to turn up as lost children. 
 
 Their cousin had taken them to picture galleries, 
 toy stores, orphan asylums, and the Museum. 
 Climbed to the cupola of the State House to satisfy 
 their piscatorial curiosity in regard to the reser- 
 voir, bought them candy at Copeland's till she 
 feared for them acute gastritis, and still these 
 young cormorants cried, "More, more ! " 
 
 A week sufficed to exhaust Jessie's patience as 
 well as her stock of amusements, and when the 
 time came for them to go home she was not loath 
 to part with them. But one would have thought 
 they were to escape from " durance vile," to have 
 heard their uproarious welcome of the announce-
 
 156 PICTURES IN THE FIRE. 
 
 ment that they were to go home. The country 
 was at once voted sixteen times better than the 
 city, though how much this had to do with the 
 greater restrictions indoors, Jessie did not know. 
 
 They couldn't see what Cousin Jessie wanted to 
 stay in old Boston for ; Newbury was a great deal 
 nicer in their opinion : and then, papa and mamma 
 and Baby were there. It seemed as if they could 
 hardly wait to get home to see the latter. 
 
 Roger asked his cousin if she s'posed little Bert 
 had growed up big while they were gone. To 
 which Allan, in his superior knowledge, replied : 
 " No, course not ; fellers don't grow up big in a 
 week. Do they, Cousin Jess ? " 
 
 Jessie told them she had never known such a 
 case, and that she thougKt they would find Baby 
 Bertie just as they had left him. 
 
 After putting them in the care of the conductor 
 who was to see them home, she sent a kiss by 
 each to the small man who was king of all hearts 
 in the parsonage, and as the train whisked out of 
 the station, and she caught the last glimpse of 
 two bright faces pressed against the window-pane, 
 Jessie was conscious of a feeling of regret that 
 she was not going with them.
 
 PICTURES IN THE FIRE. 157 
 
 Carrie Winter's visit was prolonged far into Jan- 
 uary, but she had been gone now several weeks, 
 and still Jessie lingered in the city. She had be- 
 come so interested in her music under Professor 
 Roselle's system, that she had not felt willing to 
 give it up when her friend left. Early in the win- 
 ter, too, she had joined a society for mutual im- 
 provement. Their meetings were held weekly at 
 the houses of the members, and the ground gone 
 over in history and poetry was something consider- 
 able. Through Jessie's persuasions, Doctor For- 
 ney had been induced to take the leadership of this 
 class, and she felt herself pledged to stand by it 
 until it should disband in the spring. 
 
 Since she was apparently enjoying herself and 
 making so good improvement of her time, her 
 Newbury relatives had hesitated to recall her, and 
 with the exception of a hasty visit which her uncle 
 and aunt had made her about New Year's, she 
 had seen no one from the old town. 
 
 Though Doctor Carrol was now quite comfort- 
 able again, his family knew that another attack 
 was to be expected at any time, and Milton Carrol 
 had not been from home since recalled by his 
 father's illness.
 
 158 PICTURES IN THE FIRE. 
 
 Among Jessie's friends this winter she did not 
 count a more pleasant one than Doctor Forney. 
 It was no uncommon thing now for him to drop in 
 unexpectedly at any time of day ; and more than 
 once he had taken dinner with herself and aunt in 
 the most informal way. He seemed to enjoy so 
 much being received by them in this manner, that 
 they soon dispensed with all ceremony, and looked 
 for his daily visit as quite a matter of course. 
 
 There was always some concert, reading or art 
 exhibit to which he had tickets, and which he 
 begged to share with them ; and as Mrs. Wilson's 
 health had become nearly re-established, she and 
 Jessie frequently accompanied the doctor to such 
 entertainments. 
 
 More than once, a day had been set for Jessie 
 and her aunt to dine with the Forneys, but when 
 the time came Mrs. Wilson had been indisposed, 
 or the weather had prevented. But now they had 
 promised to take dinner with the doctor on his 
 birthday, for his sister had always celebrated these 
 anniversaries by inviting some of his friends to 
 eat a birthday cake with him. 
 
 On this occasion weather and health proved 
 propitious, and Jessie and her aunt had the pleas-
 
 PICTURES IN THE FIRE. 159 
 
 ure of seeing the doctor in his own home. The 
 former, at least, had now to learn that she had 
 never seen this man at his best, for the slightly 
 conventional manner to which she had become 
 used, was laid aside, and in the change which this 
 produced Jessie had the doctor's acquaintance to 
 make over again. 
 
 And never had she so much enjoyed the wit 
 and sparkle of the doctor's conversation, which 
 was a combination of the highest culture and the 
 most genuine kind-heartedness. Seeing him now 
 in his own home, she no longer wondered that his 
 sister was fond and proud of him. 
 
 The dinner set before the doctor's guests was 
 an exquisite one, perfect in its minutest details, 
 such a meal as only a thorough knowledge and 
 love of the art of cookery can insure. 
 
 " This salad is certainly the best I ever tasted. 
 You must have a treasure in your cook, Doctor," 
 Mrs. Wilson said, after being helped for the second 
 time to a dish which, in her experience, was seldom 
 a success. 
 
 " Yes ; my cook is a treasure, Mrs. Wilson, such 
 an one as cannot be hired every day, even on Bea- 
 con street," returned the doctor, with a twinkle in
 
 I6O PICTURES IN THE FIRE. 
 
 his eye. " Harriet does make a very good salad," 
 he added, doing justice to the one before him. 
 
 " My brother is so fond of all kinds of salads, 
 I suppose I do keep my hand in on that account," 
 Miss Forney said, as if her success was due rather 
 to her brother's fondness for the dish, than her own 
 skill. 
 
 After dinner, while her aunt was talking with 
 Miss Forney, over some rare old china, in which 
 occupation they seemed likely to spend the after- 
 noon, Jessie went with the doctor to his library, or 
 study, where the glowing grate and aroma of Rus- 
 sia leather appealed at once to her aesthetic taste. 
 
 "Oh! what a delightful room," she exclaimed, 
 taking in its rich and luxurious appointments, from 
 the soft Turkey carpet to the well-filled cases of 
 books which nearly covered three sides of the 
 room. From two large bay windows the light 
 entered through flowering vines ; in one of these 
 stood a desk with a shaded lamp, in the other a 
 table of exquisite workmanship draped with a dain- 
 tily embroidered cloth, upon which were scattered 
 articles of vertu. 
 
 " I thought the study of a literary man was a 
 sort of den in which he shut himself away from
 
 PICTURES IN THE FIRE. l6l 
 
 the refinements of life, never so much as allowing 
 a broom or duster to cross the threshold," said 
 Jessie gayly. " Ah ! here is another innovation. 
 The thimble is used here as well as the pen," she 
 added, holding one aloft on her index finger. 
 
 "We literary men are not quite anchorites, Miss 
 Jessie ; I for one must plead guilty to a weakness 
 for the amenities of life. Yes ; that is Harriet's 
 thimble, as well as everything else in that window, 
 for she always sits here with me when not en- 
 gaged with household duties. You remember," 
 the doctor added, smiling, " that even in Paradise 
 Adam could not live alone." 
 
 "And I suppose Miss Forney trained these 
 vines ; how lovely they are. With all these fine 
 plants they make your windows just a little wilder- 
 ness of bloom." 
 
 " Yes ; every fall Harriet brings the garden in- 
 doors, and, like the patient man that I am, I give 
 it house-room here all winter," said the doctor, with 
 an amusing assumption of martyrdom. 
 
 " Yes ; and very glad you are to have it here, 
 too, I suspect," was Jessie's smiling rejoinder. 
 
 A moment later the doctor had wheeled a large 
 easy chair before the big centre table, and begging
 
 l62 PICTURES IN THE FIRE. 
 
 Jessie to be seated in it, proposed to show her 
 some fine views which he had collected while 
 abroad. 
 
 " Many of these are of places I visited with your 
 father," he said, while adjusting the glass to her 
 eye, after having taken from a cabinet a pile of en- 
 gravings which filled both arms. 
 
 In looking at this collection the time passed so 
 quickly that Jessie could hardly believe two hours 
 had elapsed. 
 
 And now Miss Forney entered, and claimed the 
 fulfillment of a promise which Jessie had made at 
 dinner, to sing for her. 
 
 " Stephen, you have kept Miss Jessie here nearly 
 two hours all to yourself, and you cannot monopo- 
 lize her any longer," said his sister, who a moment 
 later led their young guest off to the parlor, bid- 
 ding her brother to follow, however, as she would 
 not be selfish. 
 
 " A pleasure would be no pleasure to my sister 
 if she could not share it," said the doctor, promis- 
 ing to avail himself of her invitation as soon as he 
 should have taken care of the views which were 
 evidently very precious to him. 
 
 Long after his guests had gone home that night
 
 PICTURES IN THE FIRE. 163 
 
 the rippling silver notes that had so lately echoed 
 through the house, were still in the doctor's ears ; 
 and he had only to shut his eyes to see the grace- 
 ful form and sweet face which had lighted his 
 home for a few short hours : a vision of sweetness 
 and grace whose impalpable presence he even yet 
 felt. 
 
 Miss Forney had come to her brother's study 
 as usual after their guests were gone, and seeing 
 that he seemed to be absorbed in thought, she had 
 not disturbed him ; but, taking up a bit of work, 
 had given her attention to it. That her brother 
 was indulging his fancy for seeing pictures in the 
 fire she well knew, as he was sitting unoccupied in 
 his easy chair before the glowing grate of coals. 
 It was her habit to wait upon her brother's moods, 
 and since he seemed indisposed for conversation, 
 she was content to remain silent. 
 
 The evening was broken, and he had found him- 
 self unable to settle to his work as usual, for com- 
 ing constantly before his mental vision was the 
 picture of a slight girlish figure in a pale blue silk, 
 with soft white lace forming a corsage through 
 which the contour of a faultless neck was visible. 
 A complexion dazzlingly fair as the sun upon snow,
 
 164 PICTURES IN THE FIRE. 
 
 and a mass of rippling light brown hair, which only 
 made more resplendent the soft changeful orbs 
 which were the great charm of this face. 
 
 This was the picture upon which the doctor had 
 been gazing, but, looking up, his glance fell upon 
 his sister's figure, robed in the simple black silk 
 which was her customary dress. 
 
 " Harriet, why do you always wear black ? 
 Have you no light dresses ? " he suddenly asked. 
 
 " Why, yes ; but I think black is more becoming 
 my age. Why, don't you like me in black ? You 
 never said anything about it before, and I have 
 worn it constantly since mother's death," was Miss 
 Forney's response, startled out of her usual pla- 
 cidity by the strangeness of her brother's mood. 
 
 " Mrs. Wilson is older than you, and a widow 
 beside, but she does not seem to think it neces- 
 sary to confine herself to so sombre a color," was 
 the evasive reply. 
 
 " I am sorry if you have become tired of seeing 
 me in black, Stephen, for I have thought I could 
 never wear anything else," Miss Forney said, lay- 
 ing down her work as she spoke. Seeing that she 
 was taking the matter quite seriously, the doctor 
 hastened to add :
 
 PICTURES IN THE FIRE. 165 
 
 " Oh ! wear whatever you like, sister. You cer- 
 tainly are free to please yourself in the matter, 
 and must not mind my crotchets. I think I have 
 a weakness for bright colors ; perhaps it is com- 
 mon to my sex, but that is no reason you should 
 make a guy of yourself to please me. After all," 
 he rejoined, smiling, " I am not sure that I should 
 like you to be a walking rainbow ; for though rain- 
 bows are well enough in their place, they might 
 not be improved by a background of green carpets 
 and red silk terry." 
 
 Miss Forney resumed her work. Evidently the 
 little lady was satisfied that a change in her dress 
 was not a matter of vital importance to her 
 brother's happiness, for he had returned again to 
 his pictures in the fire.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 THE DOCTOR'S AVOWAL. 
 
 AUNTY, this is the last lesson of my quarter, 
 and I shall tell the professor to-day that I 
 will not continue them. I propose next week to 
 favor my friends in Newbury with my presence. 
 Aunt Kitty wrote me yesterday that they should 
 not spare me any longer, and if she did not speed- 
 ily hear I was coming home, she and uncle would 
 come and fetch me." As Jessie spoke she was 
 drawing on her gloves, and the next moment, with 
 a gay Au revoir! she had quitted the room for her 
 lesson. 
 
 But on her way down-stairs she became aware 
 that some one had just entered the reception-room, 
 and the next moment a servant had placed in her 
 hand Doctor Forney's card. 
 
 " I will take off my things, or he will feel his 
 call an intrusion," was her thought, which she 
 acted upon before going in to receive her visitor. 
 
 " I am fortunate, Miss Jessie, to find you still in 
 166
 
 THE DOCTOR'S AVOWAL. 167 
 
 town ; I feared you might not be," said the doctor, 
 evidently not a little pleased that his fear was not 
 verified. 
 
 " I was just telling aunty that I must go to 
 Newbury next week if I would not have a writ of 
 habeas corptis served on me," was Jessie's smiling 
 response. Then she inquired for Miss Forney, 
 whom she declared her intention of calling upon 
 before leaving the city. 
 
 " Harriet would certainly be very disappointed 
 if you did not," the doctor said, somewhat ab- 
 sently, and then for some reason speech seemed 
 to fail him, since he attempted once or twice to 
 say something, but stopped as if unable to express 
 himself. 
 
 For the first time in her acquaintance with the 
 doctor Jessie found herself in the position of en- 
 tertainer ; for the man who was never at a loss for 
 subject matter of conversation, now apparently 
 had nothing to say. 
 
 The situation was becoming the least bit awk- 
 ward, when Jessie suddenly remembered that the 
 doctor had inquired for her aunt when he first 
 came in. 
 
 "I will speak to aunty," she said, rising to touch
 
 1 68 THE DOCTOR'S AVOWAL. 
 
 the bell, but before she could do so the doctor 
 made a gesture to detain her. 
 
 "I shall be happy to see Mrs. Wilson presently," 
 he said, "but first I would like a few words with 
 yourself." Then, as if the sound of his own voice 
 had pioved the incentive he needed, he went on : 
 " Miss Jessie, I came here to-night to make a con- 
 fession, and to ask you a question ; not one of 
 ethics social or moral, but the old one about which 
 all the poetry and romance of the ages has cen- 
 tred : for I came to tell you that I love you, and 
 to ask you to be my wife. I know I am an awk- 
 ward suitor, but let me prove to you that I can be 
 a devoted lover." 
 
 In saying this last the doctor had come over to 
 her, and taken the hand which she yielded pas- 
 sively to his clasp ; but in the flushed and trou- 
 bled face he read what boded no success to his 
 suit. 
 
 " Do not answer me yet, please," he said ear- 
 nestly ; " I see I have taken you by surprise. I 
 know it is a great deal that I ask, and had I loved 
 you less it might seem like presumption to expect 
 you would give yourself to me. I trusted that 
 love had made me worthy, since it has made me
 
 THE DOCTOR'S AVOWAL. 169 
 
 bold." The tone was so gentle, and even suppli- 
 cating, that Jessie found herself contrasting it 
 with the doctor's usual confident one. 
 
 She found it impossible now to speak the words 
 of protest which had instantly sprung to her lips ; 
 but, oh ! why did he not see that what he asked 
 could never be ? 
 
 As she did not reply the doctor went on to tell 
 her how his love for her had grown, even against 
 his better judgment, which had told him that it 
 was folly for him to think of her in this way. He 
 told of the struggle he had had with himself be- 
 fore he succumbed to a passion which had carried 
 captive every imagination of his heart. 
 
 When he had finished speaking tears stood in 
 Jessie's eyes, and as soon as she could speak she 
 said, with touching earnestness : " I hope you will 
 believe me when I tell you that I did not dream 
 you felt towards me in this way. Have I ever 
 given ? " She could not finish this sentence, but 
 the doctor understood what she would have said. 
 
 " No ; I acquit you of ever giving me any en- 
 couragement, but still I hoped that you might not 
 find it impossible to look upon me as your hus- 
 band."
 
 I/O THE DOCTORS AVOWAL. 
 
 Jessie was conscious of a slight tremor that 
 passed over her nerves as he spoke, and possibly 
 this involuntary shrinking to which they had re- 
 sponded had been perceptible to the doctor, for he 
 immediately relinquished her hand. 
 
 " Then I have hoped in vain ? You cannot 
 think of me in such a relation ? " The tone was 
 so sad that Jessie found .herself strongly moved 
 by it. 
 
 The doctor knew that his suit was virtually re- 
 jected, but he must have confirmation of it from 
 her lips. 
 
 " I have always looked upon you as so much 
 superior to myself, that it did not occur to me 
 such a relation could exist between us. I thought 
 all your kindness was shown to my father's daugh- 
 ter. You were papa's friend, and so you were 
 mine." 
 
 " I see, child, you have not found any response 
 in your heart to my love. The fact of your father's 
 friendship for me has made you tolerant of the 
 claim I have made upon your kindness. I should 
 not have expected your youth would mate with my 
 years. I suppose I have seemed like an old man 
 to you."
 
 THE DOCTOR'S AVOWAL. 171 
 
 " I never thought of you in that way ; but 
 always as my kindest and most trusted friend." 
 Jessie's earnestness had given emphasis to her 
 words, and, seemingly, the doctor found in them a 
 ray of hope, for he said quickly : 
 
 " Are you quite sure that you could not go a 
 step further in your regard for me ? Is it impos- 
 sible your friendship should ripen into love ? If 
 you will give me this hope I will wait years for 
 you, though I have none to lose." 
 
 To the doctor's gentle persuasiveness a weaker 
 woman might have yielded. For a moment Jessie 
 found herself held by the subtle magnetism of this 
 man's will. To temporize and thus retain the 
 friendship she had found so pleasant, was a tempt- 
 ation, as was also the desire not to wound his 
 feelings. But even while he had been speaking 
 she realized that her heart did not respond in the 
 least measure to him who sought the closest and 
 tenderest of ties with her. If he were to pass en- 
 tirely out of her life the sun would still shine, the 
 flowers bloom, and the world seem fair and sweet. 
 For a time she would miss him, perhaps, and there 
 would always be a feeling of regret that anything 
 should have come between their friendship ; but
 
 1/2 THE DOCTORS AVOWAL. 
 
 this would be all, for conscience acquitted her of 
 doing aught to win the love she must now reject. 
 For she must be true to herself, though forced to 
 say what she would gladly have avoided. 
 
 " Something tells me that I should never be able 
 to feel to you as a wife ought, and I could not 
 vow at God's altar to love, honor and hold to till 
 death, any one to whom my heart did not spon- 
 taneously go out. I am not worthy of what you 
 offer me," she continued earnestly, " else I should 
 not have been so blind. I should have had some 
 premonition of your feeling toward me. I should 
 have found myself able to return a love which any 
 woman might be proud to have inspired." 
 
 " Do not depreciate yourself, child, nor take any 
 blame for my mistake. The fault is entirely my 
 own ; but I hope it has not forfeited me your con- 
 fidence and esteem. Since I must be content 
 with your friendship, do not scant the measure ; 
 and if at any time I can serve you, remember that 
 I shall be glad to prove to you that I cherish only 
 gratitude for your patience and candor to-day." 
 
 The doctor was gone, and Jessie still sat where 
 he had left her. 
 
 " How kind he is, and how worthy of a good
 
 THE DOCTORS AVOWAL. 1/3 
 
 woman's love ; but how strange that he should 
 have thought of me in this way. If he had pro- 
 posed to aunty, I think it would not have surprised 
 me more." 
 
 It occurred to Jessie now that unless she wished 
 to give her aunt a full account of her interview 
 with the doctor, it would be better that that lady 
 should not know of his call. A few moments later, 
 music-roll in hand, she had quitted the house ; but 
 now her lesson would depend entirely upon the 
 mood in which she found the professor, since it 
 was considerably past her usual hour.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MISS NORBERRY'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 LIKE most river towns, Newbury had its an- 
 nual picnic in which old and young joined. 
 To go down the river was to the former a day spent 
 in the open air with friends and neighbors, plenty 
 of good cheer, returning at night more tired than 
 if the time had been passed at the wash-tub. But 
 to the young people it meant feasting, flirting, fun 
 and frolic a riotous good time, and no restric- 
 tions. 
 
 The notice of such a picnic had been duly given 
 from the pulpit, and the festival appointed for the 
 following Thursday. In the three intervening 
 days food enough was cooked up in the town to 
 provision a regiment. Lunch-baskets, pails and 
 boxes were put in readiness, and everything made 
 ready for the general good time which came but 
 once a year. 
 
 On the morning of the picnic the minister was 
 called to Newbury Hill. Aunt Judith Lucas, as 
 
 174
 
 MISS NORBERRY S STRATAGEM. 1/5 
 
 she was familiarly called in the town, had been 
 taken seriously ill in the night, and in one of the 
 intervals of agonizing pain, had asked to see her 
 pastor. So at daylight the minister was sent for, 
 and his wife accompanied him to Aunt Judith's 
 bedside. Mrs. Norberry's plans for the day had 
 been quite different, but she could not go away on 
 this pleasure party and leave her old friend in her 
 last extremity. 
 
 The summons to Newbury Hill had reached the 
 parsonage before any of the family were up ; and 
 a little later the minister's niece was roused from 
 her morning nap by a rap on her door. Suppos- 
 ing she had overslept, and that a servant had been 
 sent to call her, Jessie answered, " Yes, Mary, I 
 will get right up ; " but she sprang instantly from 
 her bed, with a premonition of ill, when her aunt 
 Kitty responded, " It is I, Jessie ; and I want to 
 see you." A moment later the girl was listening 
 to the sad news from Newbury Hill : Aunt Judith 
 Lucas was not expected to live through the day. 
 " You see, dear, I must go to Aunt Judith. But 
 the boys will be very much disappointed. They 
 have talked of nothing but the picnic for the last 
 fortnight. I wish now it had been postponed till
 
 176 MISS NORBERRY'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 next week, as your uncle suggested," Mrs. Nor- 
 berry added, trying to reconcile her desire to be 
 with her old friend, and the natural wish not to 
 deprive her children of a pleasure. 
 
 " Yes ; the day will be spoiled for them without 
 you," returned Jessie, for the moment losing sight 
 of the greater anxiety, in the lesser one of her 
 cousins' disappointment. " But of course you 
 must go. Poor, dear Aunt Judith ! I wish I could 
 do something for her myself," she added, with 
 husky voice, remembering how soon this kind 
 friend might be beyond any earthly service. 
 
 " Aunt Judith has for years expected a sudden 
 call home, and there is no doubt but she is ready. 
 The sorrow and loss is ours, who will have to part 
 with her," was Mrs. Norberry's rejoinder. " I 
 hope the boys will not give you any trouble, dear, 
 for I shall have to put them in your care," Mrs. 
 Norberry continued, and leaving a few charges for 
 her children, who were not yet awake, she joined 
 her husband in his errand of love to the dying. 
 
 Allan and Roger were inconsolable on learning 
 their mother was not to go with them that day, 
 and for a time they refused to be reconciled to 
 the disappointment.
 
 MISS NORBERRY S STRATAGEM. I// 
 
 If mamma wasn't going there wouldn't be any 
 fun, and they didn't care anything about it. They 
 would stay at home. 
 
 But as Jessie continued to make arrangements 
 for the day, notwithstanding this decision, they 
 apparently thought better of it, and after a time 
 condescended to help in packing the lunch-basket 
 with the goodies their mother had laid out. 
 
 When Jessie left the house with her charges an 
 hour later they were in high good humor, and 
 swelling with importance over having the large 
 lunch-basket entrusted to their care. On reaching 
 the pier and seeing the gayly-decorated barge 
 which was to take them down river, their cousin 
 found it hard to restrain their impatience to go at 
 once on board. But this they could not do, as the 
 barge was not yet drawn up alongside the wharf, 
 and the tug which was to take it in tow was still 
 snorting and blowing in the process of getting up 
 steam for its work. 
 
 The party were off at last amid much cheering 
 of the youthful voyagers, and adieus to friends on 
 the pier who were to be left behind. 
 
 Among the latter was Miss Norberry, who had 
 declined joining the picnic party, but who at the
 
 178 MISS NORBERRY'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 last moment had taken a fancy to see them off. 
 A few minutes after Jessie left the house with the 
 children, her Aunt Helen had started on her morn- 
 ing walk, taking the pier on her way. 
 
 She wished to satisfy herself whether or no 
 Milton Carrol was of the party, and it was with 
 no little satisfaction that she learned of his ab- 
 sence from town ; Jessie would be safe from him 
 for at least that day. She wondered if her niece 
 had known that he would not go on this picnic, 
 and whether she would have cared to go herself 
 had she known it. 
 
 Since she had no means of satisfying these 
 queries, Miss Norberry was fain to find her solace 
 in the fact that they would not be together on this 
 occasion. 
 
 She often lamented her niece's vulgar taste in 
 the choice of friends. How Jessie could like such 
 common sort of people as she seemed to, was a 
 mystery to her. Nothing would have induced her 
 to spend a day in this way with her brother's par- 
 ishioners ; for she did not find Newbury society 
 congenial, and with one or two exceptions, she had 
 no intimate friends in the town. 
 
 Squire Lynde's wife who came of a family that
 
 MISS NORBERRY'S STRATAGEM. 179 
 
 stood high in the State, she had found worthy of 
 her friendship ; nor did she ignore Aunt Judith 
 Lucas' claims to her consideration, since the for- 
 mer's father had been a well-known divine. 
 
 At these two houses Miss Norberry often vis- 
 ited, and not infrequently met at both places the 
 wives and daughters of the neighboring farmers ; 
 but as she had in an eminent degree the faculty of 
 holding at arms' length any one whose acquaint- 
 ance she did not desire, the result of these meet- 
 ings was not a better understanding of the people 
 who for her brother's sake would gladly have been 
 friends with her. They were doubtless very good 
 and worthy, she was wont to say : but she had 
 nothing in common with them, as her life, tastes 
 and habit of thought were entirely different ; so 
 it was useless for her to seek to assimilate with 
 them. When her niece was at the parsonage Miss 
 Norberry spent most of her time there ; but she 
 had never liked the old town, and had her means 
 been sufficient to have kept up an establishment 
 of her own after her mother's death, she would 
 not have consented to live with her brother. She 
 was now looking forward to the time when Jessie 
 would be of age, as she would then come into her
 
 i8o MISS NORBERRY'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 mother's property, when she determined to return 
 to the city, counting upon her unbounded influ- 
 ence over her niece to order her future as she 
 pleased. 
 
 But of late a danger had menaced her cherished 
 scheme. If, after all, Jessie were to marry and set- 
 tle in Newbury, what would become of her well- 
 laid plans ? She would have had no fears of such 
 a vexatious ending of her hopes but for Milton 
 Carrol ; for there was no one else in the town 
 who would think of aspiring to her niece's hand. 
 Of him, however, she did feel afraid, and more par- 
 ticularly that she could not learn just how matters 
 stood between Jessie and him. She hoped her 
 niece would marry Doctor Forney, who would be 
 able to give her the social position to which her 
 birth entitled her ; and for this marriage Miss Nor- 
 berry had long planned and schemed. By it she 
 would herself attain the acme of her hopes. Her 
 last days would be spent in or near the city of 
 her choice. 
 
 Though she was annoyed that the engagement 
 was so long delayed, she believed that it would 
 yet come about if Jessie was not in the meantime 
 thrown in Milton Carrol's way. She was aware
 
 MISS NORBERRY'S STRATAGEM. 181 
 
 of having blundered the year before in sending the 
 girl away from her ; for in so doing she had brought 
 about just what she wished to avoid, since a more 
 intimate acquaintance, if nothing else, was the re- 
 sult of those weeks spent together at the mount- 
 ains. Jessie had very little to say about that 
 time, but her aunt did not doubt that here was to 
 be found the reason of her delayed engagement 
 with the doctor. 
 
 But though she had not been able to learn the 
 state of Jessie's feelings in regard to Milton Car- 
 rol, circumstances had made her more fortunate in 
 his case. Meeting him one day on the street, she 
 had stopped and inquired for his father's health, 
 and been otherwise so gracious, that in the hunger 
 of his heart, Milton Carrol had asked if Jessie 
 were well, and if she were not soon coming home. 
 
 Miss Norberry had replied that her niece was in 
 very good health, but that her return was quite 
 uncertain ; and then her evil genius prompted her 
 to add what she regretted as soon as uttered that 
 Doctor Forney would probably have something to 
 say about Jessie's coming home, as it was in def- 
 erence to his wishes she had remained in the city 
 so long.
 
 1 82 MISS NORBERRY'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 " Is Miss Jessie engaged to Doctor Forney ? " 
 
 Miss Norberry was not prepared for this direct 
 question, but she rallied herself and answered, 
 " It looks very much like it, does it not ? " 
 
 " I do not know. It has not been my privilege 
 to hear from Miss Jessie of late," returned Mr. 
 Carrol, who added : " Have you any reason for 
 thinking she is engaged to him ? Is she likely to 
 make such a marriage ? " 
 
 Miss Norberry felt herself arraigned by this 
 question, but she responded, " In all human prob- 
 ability she will; but still one never knows just 
 what a woman means in such a matter by what she 
 says." Miss Norberry had laughed as this last 
 admission slipped from her tongue. 
 
 " I believe you. But I do not believe Miss Jes- 
 sie will marry the doctor." The defiant tone in 
 which Mr. Carrol had said this angered the woman 
 who had thought to be herself inquisitor. 
 
 " Perhaps, Mr. Carrol, you have had hopes in 
 that direction yourself," was her retort. 
 
 " If I ever had such a hope, it would have long 
 since died of inanition, since I have had nothing to 
 feed it," Milton Carrol had said bitterly. 
 
 If Miss Norberry's nature had been less hard
 
 MISS NORBERRY'S STRATAGEM. 183 
 
 and selfish she would have been satisfied with the 
 stab she had already given ; but having determined 
 that this man should never marry her niece, and 
 fearing he would yet interfere to prevent her mar- 
 riage with the doctor, she had resolved to show 
 him that any aspirations on his own part to Jes- 
 sie's hand were futile. The opportunity was too 
 good to be lost, and she hastened to follow her 
 first blow with one that struck deeper. 
 
 " You do well, Mr. Carrol, not to feed any such 
 hope," she said, with no small degree of hauteur. 
 " Jessie Norberry has too much respect for her old 
 family name ever to ally it with a dishonored one ; 
 to say nothing of the physical disability to mar- 
 riage which you inherit as your father's son." 
 
 Had it been a man who had thus assailed him 
 Milton Carrol would have laid his antagonist in the 
 dust ; but as it was a woman, with a gesture of proud 
 disdain he raised his hat and bade her good day. 
 
 Never in her life had Miss Norberry felt so dis- 
 comfited ; she had gained her purpose, but at the 
 loss of no little self-respect, since she knew that 
 only her sex had saved her from the wrath of this 
 man whose forbearance had been the very quint- 
 essence of high breeding.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 DOWN RIVER. 
 
 THE day was warm enough to make the shadow 
 of the grove delightful, and Jessie had 
 found no trouble in keeping her cousins away from 
 the water. After serving them their dinner in 
 true picnic fashion, she had led them off on a wild, 
 joyous ramble through the woods, where her own 
 enthusiasm and love of adventure fired their ar- 
 dent young spirits, and made them her ready fol- 
 lowers. They were returning to the grove laden 
 with wood spoils, when they met a party of boys, 
 who in cruising about the neighboring shore had 
 found a quantity of fragrant river pinks. Nothing 
 in the bouquet of wild flowers which Allan was 
 carrying would at all compare with them ; and he 
 was at once seized with the desire to possess some 
 of these rare and beautiful flowers. 
 
 " I will go and get some for myself. You keep 
 them," he said, when a few were offered him ; and 
 Jessie met an eager, animated face raised to her 
 
 184
 
 DOWN RIVER. 185 
 
 own, and knew she was expected to endorse this 
 proposition. 
 
 " No, Allan, you cannot go," she said quietly, 
 hoping he would accept her decision as final, and 
 take the proffered flowers, which he evidently 
 coveted. 
 
 " Why not ? It won't take more than ten min- 
 utes just to row over there. John Hines says he'll 
 go with me. Say, can't I ?" and with boyish per- 
 sistence Allan rung the changes upon this till Jes- 
 sie was obliged to be very decided in her refusal. 
 
 " You know, Allan, your mother expressly said 
 you were not to get into a boat. So you need not 
 say anything more about it." 
 
 "Mamma meant alone, I know she did. 'Course 
 she would let me go with a big feller like John 
 Hines," was Allan's angry protest against the in- 
 justice of his cousin's refusal. 
 
 He might be right ; quite possibly his mother 
 would have let him go if she were here, but Jessie 
 felt that she could not in the face of her prohibition. 
 
 "I promised your mother that you should not 
 get into a boat, Allan, and she trusted you to me. 
 It is not like me to do what I say I will not. Is 
 it?"
 
 1 86 DOWN RIVER. 
 
 John Hines here signified his willingness to go 
 and get some of these pinks for Allan, since it 
 was only a short distance, he said, and would take 
 him but a few minutes. Allan was a sort of auto- 
 crat among the boys of the town, and there were 
 few of them but would have been willing to serve 
 him. 
 
 " No ; if I am such a baby that I can't go for 
 them myself, I won't have them," Allan said an- 
 grily. " Girls are always so 'fraid," he added con- 
 temptuously. ' " You might let me, Jess. I know 
 mamma would if she were here." Seeing that this 
 appeal was useless, Allan angrily threw away the 
 flowers which a few moments before he had so 
 treasured. 
 
 " We will walk along by the shore, and possibly 
 we may find some," was Jessie's proposition, but 
 Allan was not to be so easily won from his fit of 
 sullenness ; for he allowed her and Roger to start 
 on this quest before a better spirit came to him. 
 
 But presently, glancing back, she saw he was 
 following, and when he finally came up with them 
 she was in the middle of a story she had been 
 telling Roger. Punishment as it was to him to 
 lose one of his cousin's stories, he assumed an in-
 
 DOWN RIVER. 187 
 
 difference which might have deceived one who did 
 not know him ; but Jessie saw at once that it but 
 added to his previous ill-nature. 
 
 Jessie's search for pinks was not rewarded, 
 though they followed the shore for quite a little 
 distance ; perhaps for the reason that this spot 
 was too much the resort of pleasure parties to 
 make treasure -finding likely. But Allan for a few 
 moments almost lost sight of his resentment in 
 his satisfaction at proving his cousin mistaken. 
 
 " 'Course there ain't any here. I knew there 
 wasn't all the time," he said, still hugging his 
 grievance. 
 
 Satisfied that they were not to be found, Jessie 
 proposed returning to the grove, whither every 
 one but themselves seemed to have gone. Here 
 they found the company amusing themselves 
 watching the efforts of some of their number to 
 knock down a pole which was set loosely in the 
 ground. 
 
 This they hoped to accomplish by throwing 
 stones at it, but there were a dozen shots which 
 missed to one that affected in the least the equi- 
 librium of the pole ; and no one had yet succeeded 
 in sending it down. The game finally became
 
 1 88 DOWN RIVER. 
 
 quite general as the lookers-on were seized with a 
 desire to accomplish where others failed, for the 
 pole seemed to defy all missiles aimed at it. This 
 was the state of things when Jessie reached the 
 grove with her cousins. And a few moments later 
 Allan had made himself the hero of the hour by 
 a lucky shot, which so swayed the pole from its 
 position that an instant afterwards it was flat upon 
 the ground. 
 
 " Good ! Well done ! " echoed on every side, 
 and the meed of praise was not less hearty that it 
 was the minister's boy who had proved the suc- 
 cessful competitor. 
 
 This episode seemed to entirely restore Allan's 
 good nature ; but apparently he had wearied of 
 restraint, for he at once asserted his independence 
 by joining a group of big boys, who hailed the 
 candidate of recent honors with vociferous cheers, 
 and made a place for him at once. The game of 
 "fox and geese" was now proposed, and presently a 
 goodly number were engaged in this amusing play. 
 
 Jessie felt that it would be just as well to leave 
 Allan to himself awhile, knowing that after a time 
 he would seek her side, and be as sweet and win- 
 ning as she could wish. She saw that he was soon
 
 DOWN RIVER. 189 
 
 entirely absorbed in the game which was new to 
 him, and had evidently forgotten her entirely. 
 Then it occurred to her that she might herself go 
 and get some of the pinks which he had desired, 
 and she determined to do so. 
 
 She had never happened to come upon these 
 river beauties, though she had heard wonderful 
 tales of their discovery in out-of-the-way places. 
 Now she would have a chance to see them grow- 
 ing, and it would be such a surprise and pleasure 
 to Allan to really have some of the coveted flowers, 
 after all. 
 
 The game in which he was so much interested 
 was likely to last some time longer, and mean- 
 while she could slip away to the cove and return 
 before he would miss her. If he did discover her 
 absence he would have no suspicion where she 
 had gone, and he was not likely soon to weary of 
 his present companionship. She would have liked 
 to ask John Hines to go with her, as he knew just 
 where the flowers were, but as she could not do 
 this without attracting Allan's attention, she de- 
 cided to go alone. 
 
 Roger, wearied out with his late frolic, had fal- 
 len asleep on her lap, and laying the child on a
 
 ICO DOWN RIVER. 
 
 pile of shawls, she left him in the care of a neigh- 
 bor, saying she should be gone but a short time ; 
 but telling no one of her purpose. 
 
 She found the vicinity of the pier as deserted 
 as when she left it ; evidently the party were all in 
 the grove. The barge was laying off in the stream, 
 so she could see the whole deck, and if there were 
 any life on board it did not make itself visible. 
 
 It was the work of a moment to untie the smaller 
 of the two boats lying at the pier, step into it and 
 push off. A few dips of the oar brought her into 
 deep water, and presently she passed the opening 
 into the grove, from whence she caught a glimpse 
 of the players. 
 
 Since living in Newbury Jessie had rowed about 
 on the river a good deal, and felt entirely at home 
 in a boat ; but she saw at once that she had mis- 
 calculated the distance. The boys had claimed to 
 have found their floral treasures in a cove just 
 round the point, but this proved to be a much 
 wider strip of land than she had supposed. It oc- 
 casioned her no uneasiness, however, as it would not 
 take more than half an hour at the longest. But 
 it was very warm on the water, and the exercise 
 of rowing, together with the heat, soon fatigued
 
 DOWN RIVER. igi 
 
 her to that degree she was obliged to lie still upon 
 her oars for a moment's rest, and in the interval 
 she threw oft the sun-hat which seemed to inter- 
 cept what air there was. 
 
 Feeling somewhat relieved by this action, she 
 resumed her oars, and after some ten minutes' good 
 pulling reached the entrance to the cove ; and 
 now began a vigilant outlook for the flowers which 
 were said to grow on the banks along here, in the 
 meantime running no small risk of a capsize in 
 keeping such close proximity to the shore. 
 
 She had forgotten to ask the boys if they had 
 found this flower immediately at the river's edge; 
 and she had about made up her mind that they 
 must have gone ashore, and that she had come 
 on a fruitless quest, when she espied a short dis- 
 tance away what might be one of these river beau- 
 ties. 
 
 Determined to know if this were the case, she 
 made for the only rock of any size near, drew her 
 boat up beside it, and hastily securing the painter, 
 was a moment later scrambling over some low 
 bushes which intercepted her way. 
 
 A subtle fragrance which she well remembered 
 convinced her that her quest was ended, and pres-
 
 IQ2 DOWN RIVER. 
 
 ently, nestled among the beach grass, she found a 
 number of these lovely fringed flowers. 
 
 She had secured quite a bouquet when she dis- 
 covered another river flower which she had never 
 before seen growing, the king's finger. The true 
 botanist's love for unfamiliar specimens in the 
 floral kingdom now tempted her to a farther quest, 
 which was rewarded in the finding of one or two 
 more equally rare and beautiful specimens of river 
 flora ; then she suddenly remembered that time 
 was fleeting, and she must return. 
 
 Thinking of Allan's surprise when she should 
 show him these treasures, she started to regain 
 her boat. But where was it ? There was certainly 
 the stone where she had tied it ; yes, and there 
 was her little skiff dancing on the crest of a wave 
 some twenty feet or more away. 
 
 What was she to do ? Farther up the cove was 
 a large scow such as is used to transport hay. 
 Would it be possible to make use of it to regain 
 her boat ? This hope she was obliged to abandon, 
 however, as Reason told her she would never be 
 able to manage anything so unwieldy, even if it 
 were sea-worthy, which probably was not the case, 
 or it would not have been left here.
 
 DOWN RIVER. 193 
 
 Jessie now for the first time realized the isolation 
 of her surroundings, when, on scanning the horizon, 
 she could discern no living thing. Evidently there 
 was nothing to do but to stay here till her friends 
 came for her ; but now she remembered that she 
 had told no one of her purpose to visit the cove. 
 
 But they would miss the boat, and must know 
 she had taken it. In this thought she was obliged 
 to find her only solace, since it was the sole ray 
 of hope she could discover. To walk back would 
 be impossible, since she could not penetrate the 
 dense piece of woods lying between her and the 
 picnic grounds. But fortunately she had come far 
 up the cove, and she might make her way round by 
 the bank to the other side, where she would per- 
 haps be able by some means to signal her friends. 
 In doing this she passed the scow before men- 
 tioned, and left it reluctantly, though convinced 
 that it could not aid her in any way other than as 
 a more desirable resting-place than the river-bank, 
 if she were obliged to spend the night here. 
 
 With some difficulty she followed the shore till 
 it brought her nearly opposite the head of the 
 point where she had hoped to at least get sight of 
 the barge ; but, unfortunately, the land here was
 
 194 DOWN RIVER. 
 
 too low and boggy to allow of her keeping on in 
 that direction, though had she done so she must 
 have walked miles before she could have obtained 
 a clear view round the thickly-wooded point which 
 was between her and the open stream. Thinking 
 this land might be hiding from her sight those 
 who were seeking her, she called repeatedly, but 
 no respone came back a primeval silence seemed 
 to have settled upon nature. 
 
 Since her boat was entirely beyond her reach, 
 she saw with satisfaction that it was drifting far- 
 ther and farther out into the stream, where it was 
 likely to be discovered by her friends, who would 
 at once understand the situation. But it was so 
 tedious waiting with the uncertainty as to what 
 she was waiting for ! If she had not been so quiet 
 about her intentions, the situation would not have 
 been so critical ; for when she did not return, her 
 friends would have known where to seek her ; now 
 their doing so would depend upon accident. The 
 shadows were falling more and more obliquely, but 
 she had not taken her watch with her that morn- 
 ing, and was at a loss about the time ; for to her 
 excited fancy it seemed hours that she had trav- 
 ersed the river bank straining her eyes to catch
 
 DOWN RIVER. 195 
 
 sight of anything coming round the point. And 
 now she began to fear she might have to spend 
 the night here ; for she was confident that the 
 hour set to leave the picnic grounds had passed. 
 What could have kept her friends from seeking 
 her? 
 
 It finally seemed useless to wait longer for the 
 help which did not come. She must find some 
 other way out of the difficulty. The first thing to 
 do was to learn what her chances were in the op- 
 posite direction, if a human habitation were near. 
 
 A large tract of land that had lately been burned 
 over lay between her and what seemed to be dense 
 woods. There might be a road, however, she could 
 not at this distance tell ; but at all events, she must 
 leave this spot, since no one would come here for 
 her now. 
 
 It seemed to Jessie almost like a voluntary de- 
 sertion of her little cousins to turn her back upon 
 the expanse of water before her, and seek safety 
 for herself in the opposite direction. It was not 
 her own trouble which brought tears to her eyes 
 as she did so, but the thought of them. She knew 
 they would not want for care in her absence, but 
 how had they been comforted in her loss ?
 
 196 DOWN RIVER. 
 
 When she finally turned and began to make her 
 way over the rough tract of country before her, 
 she found her view of the water quickly shut off, 
 as the land gradually descended, and in places was 
 so low and swampy as to be almost impassable. 
 
 By picking her stepping places, and making sud- 
 den detours, she was able to proceed, and after a 
 time saw an opening ahead of her which she felt 
 sure was a road through the woods, since she 
 could see in quite a little distance. She deter- 
 mined to follow it, reasoning that it must bring 
 out somewhere, and it was her only alternative. 
 Once entered on this wood road she had to shut 
 her eyes to all the wild beauty about her ; for the 
 mosses and lichens which lined her path would at 
 another time have held her in complete thrall ; but 
 now she had not a moment to lose, as she did not 
 know how long this road might be, or that dark- 
 ness might not overtake her ere she reached the 
 open country again. 
 
 To her joy, some fifteen minutes later this lay 
 before her : the woods were passed, and off to 
 the right were hay-fields where she was presently 
 sure men were at work. On coming nearer, she 
 saw they were loading a large ox-team with the
 
 DOWN RIVER. 197 
 
 fragrant new-made hay with -which the air was 
 richly scented. 
 
 Jessie now suddenly realized her fatigue. She 
 must sit down for a moment, if only to get strength 
 to tell her story ; for she would be obliged to ap- 
 peal to these laborers, since she could walk no 
 further, and no house where she could seek shelter 
 was visible. 
 
 She resolved first to find out what her chances 
 were of getting home that night. If there were a 
 horse in the neighborhood she would at any price 
 secure it. She had only time to formulate this 
 plan, when, looking up, she saw one of the hay- 
 makers coming toward her ; and then she found 
 herself shrinking from the necessity of asking aid 
 of these men. 
 
 In another moment this one would be near 
 enough for her to speak, and she would do so, she 
 resolved ; but when she raised her eyes again an 
 exclamation of astonishment escaped her, for it 
 was no stranger approaching, but the last man in 
 the world she would have thought to see here 
 it was Milton Carrol. 
 
 " Why, Miss Jessie ! what has happened ? You 
 are in trouble ? " was his hurried salutation.
 
 198 DOWN RIVER. 
 
 Surprise nearly deprived Jessie of the power of 
 speech, but involuntarily she extended both hands 
 to him. 
 
 " Oh ! I am so glad to see you," she cried, with 
 dewy eyes ; and then between smiles and tears, she 
 told him what had happened. 
 
 " And you have walked all the way from the 
 cove here ? A good three miles ! and over such a 
 rough road, too. Why, you must be completely 
 tired out." There was in Mr. Carrol's eyes as he 
 spoke a caressing, expressing expression which for 
 the moment made them very kind. 
 
 " I was not fortunate enough to find the road 
 till just before I reached the woods," Jessie re- 
 turned, "but I am not so very tired, that is, not 
 so tired as I was ten minutes ago," smiling. 
 
 In her surprise at meeting him, Jessie forgot to 
 ask how he happened to be here. It seemed the 
 most natural thing in the world that she should 
 have found him in her trouble. But he presently 
 explained that he had been down here two days 
 cutting the hay from a piece of grass land which 
 belonged to him, and that he was intending to go 
 up river that night with a scow-load. 
 
 " So you see nothing could have happened more
 
 DOWN RIVER. 199 
 
 opportunely. I can take you right home, that is, 
 if you will go up with me on the hay. It will be 
 much less fatiguing than by carriage ; though if 
 you prefer it, I can easily send you by team," he 
 added. 
 
 Jessie would not hear to such an arrangement. 
 She would much prefer to go with him in the 
 scow, she said frankly. 
 
 "Then it must have been your scow I saw in 
 the cove. If it had not been altogether too un- 
 wieldy I should have tried to reach my boat by its 
 means." Jessie spoke with her usual sprightliness, 
 though making an effort to do so. 
 
 When she declared her preference for going 
 \vith him on the hay, a light had come into Milton 
 Carrol's eyes which suddenly died out again. In 
 that brief moment he had taken counsel of his 
 thoughts, and springing up from his seat beside 
 her, he said gravely, 
 
 " I am sorry I have no better conveyance to 
 offer you than my ox-team, as I fear your ride to 
 the cove will hardly be a comfortable one ; but I 
 will come for you when we are ready to start." 
 
 Ever since her return to Newbury Jessie had 
 marked a change in Mr. Carrol's manner to her ;
 
 20O DOWN RIVER. 
 
 and his grave courtesy now was a fair sample of the 
 attitude he had taken toward her, and which she 
 had found herself unable to understand. Concern 
 for her welfare had in the first instant surprised 
 from him the old hearty friendliness ; and Jessie 
 at once noted the change and felt pained by it. 
 
 She was glad to avail herself of the rest which 
 the interval before starting gave her, for she was 
 feeling her fatigue more and more. While wait- 
 ing now for Mr. Carrol's return, she recalled hear- 
 ing that he had bought a tract of grass land down 
 river ; though when told that morning that he was 
 away getting his hay, it had not occurred to her 
 that he would be anywhere in the vicinity of the 
 picnic ground. 
 
 When Mr. Carrol came for her, some few mo- 
 ments later, he had in his hand one of those broad- 
 brimmed hats which hay-makers often wear to 
 shield their necks from the blistering rays of the 
 sun. 
 
 "This is the best I can do for you, Miss Jessie," 
 he said, after having carefully lined the crown 
 with his pocket handkerchief. Twelve months 
 before Milton Carrol would have insisted upon 
 tying it on, but now he did not offer to do so
 
 DOWN RIVER. 2O I 
 
 the fact was, he felt himself unequal to the ordeal 
 of having those questioning eyes any nearer his 
 face. 
 
 Jessie removed the turban which she had im- 
 provised from her handkerchief while waiting, and 
 accepted with thanks the head covering Mr. Carrol 
 had brought her. 
 
 " Why, this is hat and umbrella all in one," she 
 said gayly, but a moment later finding it impossi- 
 ble to look out from the broad, flapping brim, she 
 pinned this back to keep it out of her eyes, ad- 
 ding with charming piquancy, " You should have 
 brought me a rake, that my outfit might be com- 
 plete." 
 
 " I did not think of that ; but if you wish for 
 one you can be supplied. It would add to the 
 picturesqueness of the costume." Milton Carrol 
 would have been other than a man had he not 
 been moved by the sweet arch face which looked 
 out from the hat to which Jessie had contrived 
 to give an air and grace which had not seemed 
 among its possibilities. 
 
 " Why, this must be enchanted ground if I have 
 only to wish for a thing to have it. I wonder if it 
 would do any good to wish for a coach-and-four."
 
 2O2 DOWN RIVER. 
 
 There was in Jessie's manner as she spoke an un- 
 conscious conciliatory grace which he found hard 
 to resist, and which tempted him to lay aside the 
 sternness of manner to which he had schooled 
 himself. But, loving her as he did, he felt that she 
 must be all to him or nothing, and since Fate had 
 decreed it should be the latter, he had decided 
 that the sooner they returned to polite conven- 
 tionality in their intercourse, the better it would 
 be for himself, at least. 
 
 The three men whom he had hired to help him 
 get this hay, and boat it up river, were already on 
 the fore part of the load when he helped Jessie to 
 a seat which had been prepared for her in the rear. 
 
 " Did you ever ride on a load of hay before ? " 
 he asked, springing to a seat beside her when all 
 was ready for their start. 
 
 " O, yes ! at Newbury Hill I used often to ride 
 on the hay. That was one of the things I always 
 counted on doing when I went there," Jessie said, 
 and then was silent, for she had remembered the 
 sad message which had that morning come from 
 the farm where she had spent so many happy 
 days. 
 
 Mr. Carrol had not heard of Aunt Judith's ill-
 
 DOWN RIVER. 2O3 
 
 ness, and Jessie now told him. While they were 
 talking of the good woman whose death would be 
 a great loss to the town, since everybody loved 
 her, the driver was putting his oxen along as fast 
 as was possible over a road that was at best but a 
 cart-path. 
 
 Conversation under such circumstances had its 
 disadvantages ; and Jessie and her companion soon 
 lapsed into a silence which was unbroken for the 
 remainder of the way to the cove. On reaching 
 the scow the hay was quickly transferred to it, 
 and one of the men started back with the cart, 
 while the other two remained to boat the hay up 
 river. 
 
 "You are not taking a full load," Jessie said, as 
 they pushed off, "at least not of hay," she added 
 with a troubled look. 
 
 " No, not quite ; but my passenger is most wel- 
 come for all that," Mr. Carrol returned, his features 
 relaxing into a smile. But meeting the wistful 
 expression of a pair of brown eyes, he added, with 
 kindly earnestness, " The hay can come up river 
 any time. Do not give yourself a moment's un- 
 easiness about that. I only hope you will not find 
 the sail too wearisome ; but you will be more com-
 
 2O4 DOWN RIVER. 
 
 fortable to lie down. I have had many a good nap 
 going up river on my hay." 
 
 " Thank you ! I shall get along very well as I 
 am. I could not sleep if I were to lie down," was 
 Jessie's reply ; but she had no sooner spoken than 
 she was conscious of her cramped and aching 
 limbs. 
 
 " I am afraid we shall not get along very fast, 
 for the wind is dead against us," Mr. Carrol said a 
 few moments after they started, at the same time 
 anxiously scanning the horizon. 
 
 Jessie made no response, for she had not heard 
 this remark. She was asking herself now whether 
 it would not have been better for her to have taken 
 other means of reaching home, rather than to have 
 put Mr. Carrol to the trouble of going up with 
 half a load, as he was doing on her account. This 
 would have given her less concern had she felt 
 sure that he regarded her with his former kindli- 
 ness ; but his coldness and reserve of late troubled 
 her, and to-day it had been more marked than on 
 any previous occasion. 
 
 As they passed the deserted picnic ground Jes- 
 sie had a realizing sense of the anxiety and trou- 
 ble which her disappearance must have cost her
 
 DOWN RIVER. 2O5 
 
 friends. Probably they had gone home believing 
 her drowned, as they must have found her boat 
 out in the river. She imagined the distress which 
 this would cause Allan, who would remember his 
 fit of naughtiness that afternoon, and be heart- 
 broken. She was not conscious of the sigh which 
 escaped her at this point, but Milton Carrol noted 
 it, and also the pained expression of her face, and 
 he would have given much to have known just 
 what was troubling her. It could hardly be that 
 she was still worrying about having been separated 
 from her party, since no harm had come of it. 
 Had what he said about the wind being against 
 them made her fear that they would not be home 
 before morning ? Was it the hope of reaching 
 Newbury under the cover of darkness which had 
 made her catch so eagerly at this mode of convey- 
 ance ? He remembered on a former occasion how 
 sensitive she had been to having any publicity 
 given to a misadventure. Was it the same feeling 
 which had prompted her to go home in this way ? 
 Did she see now that she had made a mistake in 
 electing to go in his company, since it was likely 
 to be known in the town that he had brought her 
 home ?
 
 2O6 DOWN RIVER. 
 
 Mr. Carrol's resolve was instantly taken. He 
 would reach Newbury before daylight. If he 
 found it impossible to do so by water he would 
 land at Barstead, ten miles above, where was kept 
 a famous trotter. With that horse he knew he 
 could get her to her uncle's house before any one 
 in the town would be stirring. By so doing no- 
 body need know, unless she herself chose to speak 
 of it, that 'he had come in his company. He 
 would at any rate save her from the odium of hav- 
 ing her name associated with his own ; for that 
 others regarded him in the same light that Miss 
 Norberry did, he no longer had any doubt. 
 
 The fact of his mad blood and dishonored name 
 which she had flung in his face, had come, in his 
 own estimation, to be an insuperable barrier to his 
 marriage with this girl. There had been a fierce 
 conflict in his heart between love and pride, but it 
 had ended in a vow not to interfere with Jessie 
 Norberry's future. Whatever it might know of 
 disappointment or sorrow, or unrealized possibili- 
 ties, he would be in no way responsible. 
 
 Rousing from her painful reverie, Jessie per- 
 ceived that Mr. Carrol was exerting all his strength 
 at one of the oars.
 
 DOWN RIVER. 2O7 
 
 " Why do you do that ? " she asked, laying her 
 hand upon his arm to deter him from what she 
 felt was a waste of strength. 
 
 He looked up and smiled. "We have a long 
 distance to go yet," he replied, without relaxing 
 his efforts at the oar. 
 
 Jessie said no more, but sank again into another 
 reverie. Meanwhile Nature's grand panorama of 
 dark green foliage outlined against the evening 
 sky, wherein was blended the softest azure tints, 
 with the gold and purple of a brilliant sunset, was 
 entirely disregarded by her. 
 
 After a time she was conscious enough of her 
 surroundings to be aware that a whispered confer- 
 ence was taking place between Mr. Carrol and his 
 two assistants, and presently that they were going 
 through the water at greater speed. But she did 
 not associate cause and effect in this case ; nor did 
 it occur to her that something had given renewed 
 strength to those brawny arms which no longer 
 plied their oars with the slow, mechanical motion 
 that had previously marked their rowing. 
 
 The picturesque river-banks winding in and out 
 in their myriad curves and projections, here a 
 wooded dell whose graceful slope met the river's
 
 2O8 DOWN RIVER. 
 
 flow, there a patch of meadow land, resplendent in 
 tints borrowed from the evening sky, and anon a 
 stretch of rocky shore, wild and beautiful in its 
 varied verdure, these would at another time have 
 appealed deeply to her sense of the artistic, but 
 were now unnoticed by the girl, who, wrapped in 
 troubled thought, was unconscious of the picture 
 which Nature spread out before her. 
 
 As night settled down, sheer weariness com- 
 pelled Jessie to resort to the couch which Mr. 
 Carrol prepared for her, by spreading a piece of 
 sail-cloth over the hay. Here, covered with the 
 blanket which he had brought for his own use, she 
 could rest her weary limbs, a privilege of which 
 she was glad to avail herself. Sleep, however, was 
 out of the question in her present disturbed state 
 of mind, and she found herself going over and 
 over again her trying experience of the day. Some 
 one to whom she could have talked, or who would 
 have talked to her, would have seemed to her a 
 godsend anything which would have put an end 
 to this weary thinking ; but Mr. Carrol had 
 wrapped himself, as it were, in a mantle of silence, 
 and she found herself lacking the courage to dis- 
 turb him.
 
 DOWN RIVER. 2O9 
 
 After a time she had fallen to watching the 
 grave, stern face which did not relax a muscle. 
 What had produced such a transformation in the 
 man who only a twelvemonth before had been one 
 of the most entertaining and pleasant of com- 
 panions ? Was it anxiety about his father that had 
 changed the genial, kindly nature into the reserved, 
 morose one ? Though Jessie knew that his fath- 
 er's condition was precarious, she felt that this 
 did not furnish an explanation. 
 
 It was as if something had come between them, 
 something which had made him distrust or dis- 
 approve of her ; though she knew of nothing that 
 was likely to do so ; for she little suspected her 
 Aunt Helen of having interfered between them. 
 Though he had been kind and solicitous for her 
 comfort, she felt this was not done with the old 
 heartiness. What could have wrought this change 
 in him ? She would have liked to ask him, for 
 that there was some reason for this difference in 
 his manner to her, she felt sure. But since she 
 could not do this, it only disturbed her the more to 
 dwell upon it. Possibly she "had been mistaken, 
 she told herself ; he might have some trouble of 
 which she was not cognizant. But if he were the
 
 2IO DOWN RIVER. 
 
 man she had taken him to be, no ordinary trial 
 would have made him thus hard ; and Jessie did 
 not believe she had been deceived in him. She 
 would be patient and wait. What she did not 
 understand now, would sometime be explained. 
 But meanwhile she would have been glad to make 
 some inquiries about his father, whom she had not 
 seen since her return to Newbury. 
 
 The stern face, forbidding, almost, in its present 
 aspect, did not, however, invite her confidence ; 
 and the opportunity for an explanation which might 
 have brought these two hearts together, passed, 
 and left them to further misunderstandings and 
 estrangement.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 MISS NORBERRY'S REPENTANCE. 
 
 THE afternoon had nearly waned before Jes- 
 sie was missed ; but even then her absence 
 did not occasion alarm, for her friends supposed 
 she had gone into the woods, as she was known 
 to be a dear lover of nature, and to delight in her 
 solitudes. 
 
 But when the hour set for leaving the grove 
 came, and she did not return, some concern was 
 felt, and parties at once started out in different 
 directions to look for her. 
 
 Then the boat was missed, and presently dis- 
 covered out in the stream. No one had seen Jes- 
 sie take it ; but the boys who had used it early in 
 the afternoon were confident that they had left it 
 secure. 
 
 When those who had been looking for her in 
 the woods returned, the opinion began to gain 
 ground that she must have gone out in the boat ; 
 a few minutes later this was captured, and the 
 
 211
 
 212 MISS NORBERRY S REPENTANCE. 
 
 missing girl's hat found in it. This seemed to be 
 positive proof of her late presence, but where was 
 she now ? 
 
 She would naturally be somewhere near the 
 shore, it was thought, if the boat had got away 
 from her in landing ; but when no response came 
 to the loud and repeated calls of her friends, this 
 hope was abandoned. 
 
 At first no one thought of the cove, as it was 
 not supposed the boat had floated so far; but 
 finally this spot was explored, though too late to 
 find any trace of her there ; and now it was feared 
 that something serious had befallen her. 
 
 It was with sad hearts that the party finally 
 turned homeward after a thorough exploration of 
 the whole neighborhood. But still they were not 
 entirely without hope that their missing compan- 
 ion had in some fortuitous way escaped the fate 
 they feared for her. These dark forebodings were 
 kept from Allan and Roger, who supposed their 
 cousin had gone home some other way, since she 
 could not be found ; and their friends encouraged 
 this belief, thinking it kinder to do so, than to 
 share their fears with them. 
 
 But when the children reached home, and learned
 
 MISS NORBERRY S REPENTANCE. 213 
 
 that Jessie was not there, and that no one knew 
 where she was, and that it was even feared she 
 had been drowned, their cries, coupled with Miss 
 Norberry's angry denunciations of those who had 
 suffered her niece to meet such a fate, for a time 
 turned the parsonage into a semblance of pande- 
 monium. 
 
 No one who saw Helen Norberry when this 
 news was brought her, would ever forget her grief 
 and rage. 
 
 How dared they come to her with such a story ! 
 Why had they come away at all and left her niece's 
 fate uncertain ? " No one but poltroons and cow- 
 ards would have so deserted a comrade," were 
 among her angry utterances. 
 
 Those who would have sympathized with her, 
 found their attempts scorned, and were made to 
 feel that their presence in the house was unwel- 
 come. For, after giving vent to a tirade of injus- 
 tice in which all the party were included, she shut 
 herself into her brother's study to bear alone the 
 blow under which her reason almost staggered. 
 
 If Milton Carrol had been at home she would 
 have sent for him. She remembered with remorse 
 how glad she had been only that morning to find
 
 214 MISS NORBERRY S REPENTANCE. 
 
 he was not in the party. Ah ! if he only had been, 
 this would not have happened. The cruel waters 
 could not have taken her from him ; for if he had 
 found it impossible to save her, he too would have 
 gone down. Miss Norberry fully believed this, so 
 entirely did she believe in Milton Carrol's love for 
 her niece. 
 
 "Jessie drowned, dead ! oh ! it cannot be," she 
 moaned, as with a nervous shudder she covered 
 her face to shut out the terrible picture which 
 thought presented of that fair young form floating 
 among the reeds of the river. 
 
 Milton Carrol would have been amply avenged 
 had he known how, in her trouble, Miss Norber- 
 ry's thoughts turned to him for help, and how, dur- 
 ing all the terrible hours of that night-vigil, she 
 lamented the pride and hardness of heart with 
 which she had striven to shape her niece's future. 
 
 The minister and his wife were summoned from 
 Aunt Judith's bedside, and reached home just 
 after midnight, having left their poor friend still 
 living, but unconscious of the going and coming 
 of those about her. 
 
 Though overwhelmed at first by the news which 
 had been brought them, they did not upon reach-
 
 MISS NORBERRY S REPENTANCE. 21 5 
 
 ing home, and learning the full particulars, feel 
 like taking quite so despondent a view of Jessie's 
 fate as had her companions. To them it appeared 
 impossible that she could have been drowned in 
 smooth water at midday, and within sight and 
 hearing of her friends. For the fact that her boat 
 had been found near the picnic grounds, presup- 
 posed her not to have gone far ; though the mys- 
 tery of her non-appearance anywhere on the shore 
 was inexplicable. It seemed more probable that 
 she had gone ashore and been overcome by the 
 heat, perhaps fainted, and not returned to con- 
 sciousness in time to make her whereabouts known 
 to her friends. Or she might have fallen and been 
 injured, sprained her ankle, or in some other way 
 been disabled. That some of the party had not 
 been left to continue the search through the night, 
 seemed to the minister and his wife a great over- 
 sight. 
 
 On reaching home Mr. Norberry began making 
 
 arrangements for a more thorough search, and in a 
 
 
 
 short time found a dozen or twenty men ready to 
 start with him in the morning ; for it was thought 
 best to wait till daylight, as something might be 
 heard from the missing one in the meantime.
 
 216 MISS NORBERRY'S REPENTANCE. 
 
 Mrs. Norberry had succeeded after a time in 
 quieting her excited children, and inspiring them 
 with her own hope that Jessie would yet be found 
 all right, and they had finally fallen asleep assuring 
 each other that cousin Jess would come home in 
 the morning, for papa would be sure to find her 
 and bring her. 
 
 Notwithstanding that the day had been a fatigu- 
 ing one to many, there was little sleeping done 
 that night in Newbury while Jessie Norberry's 
 fate was still uncertain ; and when, just before 
 dawn, a carriage was driven down the main street 
 at a very unusual rate of speed, the sound was 
 followed by more than one anxious watcher, who 
 by some strange sense of prescience knew that it 
 would stop at the minister's door. 
 
 Alone with her grief and repentance, Miss Nor- 
 berry had also heard this carriage, but it bore no 
 significance to her overwrought nerves ; and a mo- 
 ment later, when the library door opened, and her 
 niece entered the room, she raised a blanched and 
 
 ^ 
 
 grief-stricken face, in which was no recognition of 
 the truth. 
 
 Guided by the light in her uncle's study, Jessie 
 had gone directly there on reaching home ; and
 
 MISS NORBERRY S REPENTANCE. 2I/ 
 
 comprehending at a glance what the night had 
 been to her aunt, in which she had mourned her 
 dead, the girl went over to her, and putting both 
 arms about her neck, nestled into her lap as she 
 had done when a child, sorry for any wrong-doing. 
 Neither spoke for several moments, but Jessie felt 
 herself folded in such an embrace as this relative 
 had not given her for years. 
 
 Mrs. Norberry had heard that carriage stop at 
 her door, and as soon as she could release herself 
 from the arms of her sleeping children, she had 
 come to the study, whither the sound of voices 
 attracted her. 
 
 " Thank God, my child, that you are not lying 
 helpless and deserted in those lonely woods," she 
 said, folding to her heart the girl who was as dear 
 to her as her own children. 
 
 While Jessie was telling her story the door again 
 opened, and her uncle came in ; and then more 
 tears were shed, and thanks offered for her safe 
 return. 
 
 " I thought to surprise and please the children 
 with a few flowers, and instead I have given you 
 all so much trouble," Jessie said, in concluding her 
 story.
 
 218 MISS NORBERRY'S REPENTANCE. 
 
 " Let us return thanks to Almighty God," was 
 her uncle's response. A few moments later the 
 first rays of the morning sun shone upon the little 
 group kneeling in the pastor's study, who with 
 hearts full of gratitude for their unbroken circle, 
 remembered her upon whom the day of a brighter 
 world had dawned. For Aunt Judith had breathed 
 her last half an hour after the minister and his 
 wife had left her bedside. 
 
 Before going to her room Jessie had stolen to 
 the nursery, where her light kiss upon her cousin 
 Allan's brow had at once aroused him. 
 
 " I knew papa would find you and bring you 
 home ; I told Rog so. They said you was drowned, 
 and I cried awful, and so did Rog too. Aunt 
 Helen said we might. ' Poor children ! they may 
 cry ; their hearts are not stone/ Aunt Helen said. 
 I tell you, she was dreadful mad with them for let- 
 ting you get drowned. Didn't she give it to them 
 awful cause they left you ? You orter heard her, 
 Jess ; she thinks a heap of you." The boy's soft 
 eyes had filled with tears while speaking, and now, 
 burying his head in his cousin's lap, he sobbed, 
 "We all think a heap of you, and I'm sorry I was 
 so bad yesterday."
 
 MISS NORBERRY S REPENTANCE. 2IQ 
 
 " Never mind now, dear ; that's all passed," re- 
 turned Jessie, raising the tearful face to impress 
 upon it the seal of forgiveness in a loving kiss. 
 By this time Roger had woke, and for the next 
 few minutes Jessie had all that she could do to 
 divide herself between the two. 
 
 " Is your foot broke ? " the latter presently asked, 
 remembering that some such calamity had been 
 suggested as happening to his cousin. 
 
 " No, darling, my foot is all right ; nothing hap- 
 pened to me only that I lost my boat, and so could 
 not come back to go home with you," was Jessie's 
 reply, and then she answered all their questions 
 as to where she went and how she had come home. 
 
 "Oh! I thought papa brought you home," Allan 
 said, not a little disappointed to find that this deed 
 of valor had been performed out of the family. 
 Then, quick to accord justice where it was due, he 
 cried, " Three cheers for Mr. Carrol, the best man 
 in the world next to papa," and while the nursery 
 was echoing to the round of cheers which he had 
 proposed, Jessie escaped to her room. 
 . " You should not have told Allan that Mr. Car- 
 rol brought you home last night," Miss Norberry 
 said to her niece a few hours later. " Now it will
 
 22O MISS NORBERRY S REPENTANCE. 
 
 be all over town, for that child is perfectly ridicu- 
 lous in the way he goes on about it. One would 
 think, to hear him talk, that your rescue was a deed 
 of prowess and valor which had covered Mr. Carrol 
 with glory. Allan's head is full of the old tales 
 of chivalry he has been reading lately, and which 
 he has mixed all up with this affair." Before 
 twenty-four hours had elapsed Miss Norberry 
 would have been glad to forget that Jessie owed 
 her rescue to Milton Carrol. No sooner did she 
 know her niece to be alive and safe than her heart 
 hardened to the man who had laid this obligation 
 upon her. 
 
 Jessie did not reply, for she knew it would be 
 idle to argue the matter with her aunt. But had 
 her cousin Allan been near at the moment, he 
 would have received the caress which she gave 
 him in her heart as she resolved that his new- 
 found hero should lose nothing of his prestige 
 through her.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 JESSIE'S DILEMMA. 
 
 WHILE you are resting this afternoon, Aunt 
 Helen, I will make some calls ; for if we 
 go home to-morrow this will be my last oppor- 
 tunity." 
 
 " I should think you would feel the need of rest 
 yourself. You will be all used up by evening, and 
 not fit to see any one." There was a note of an- 
 noyance in Miss Norberry's voice, which did not 
 escape her niece. 
 
 " No one knows we are in town, so we are not 
 likely to have visitors," was Jessie's reply. 
 
 Miss Norberry did not inform her niece that she 
 had written Doctor Forney they would be in Bos- 
 ton a few days for their Christmas shopping, and 
 where he might find them. For some reason, she 
 thought it best to say nothing about this to Jessie. 
 The glance which her niece had given her a mo- 
 ment since made her a little uneasy, and she found 
 herself hoping that the doctor would say nothing
 
 222 JESSIE S DILEMMA. 
 
 of her letter, but would leave Jessie to suppose he 
 had learned of her presence in the city by accident. 
 
 In fact, this expected call from the doctor was 
 the real reason of Miss Norberry's deciding to 
 remain in this afternoon, though she had pleaded 
 fatigue as her motive ; so she was quite annoyed 
 on learning Jessie's intention to use the time in 
 making calls. 
 
 " If you have set your heart on it, I suppose you 
 must go, but pray remember that I am alone, and 
 do not extend your visits to visitations," was her 
 ungracious rejoinder. 
 
 Dropping in to her Aunt Wilson's while out, 
 Jessie found awaiting her there a letter from home. 
 It was from her Aunt Kitty, and written the pre- 
 vious evening. 
 
 "Why! Doctor Carrol is dead," Jessie exclaimed, 
 and then read aloud what followed this announce- 
 ment. " He had another shock last night, and 
 this morning he dropped away without any appar- 
 ent suffering. His poor wife is completely pros- 
 trated by the blow." Here the letter dropped 
 from the girl's nerveless fingers ; stooping, she 
 picked it up mechanically, and presently excusing 
 herself to her aunt, left the house.
 
 JESSIE S DILEMMA. 223 
 
 She had intended making another call, but this 
 was now forgotten, and so absorbed was she in the 
 intelligence just received, that she hardly noticed 
 whither her steps were tending until she had 
 reached the hotel. Here she found her aunt and 
 Doctor Forney deep in the discussion of a popular 
 book. 
 
 Jessie had been schooling herself to meet her 
 relative with an announcement which Doctor Car- 
 rol's death seemed to make necessary; for she had 
 resolved to immediately carry out the promise she 
 had made him, but she had not been prepared to 
 find a visitor on her return. 
 
 That Jessie was disturbed, her aunt saw at once, 
 and she fancied herself suspected of finessing to 
 bring about this visit, proving true the old adage, 
 that a guilty conscience needs no accuser. 
 
 " Why, child, what has brought you home with 
 such a long face ? " she asked lightly, thinking to 
 give Jessie a hint of her displeasure at this fit of 
 taciturnity. 
 
 " I have had bad news from Newbury," Jessie 
 replied, hesitating a moment before adding, " Doc- 
 tor Carrol is dead." 
 
 "Why, you quite startled me. I supposed some-
 
 224 JESSIE'S DILEMMA. 
 
 thing had happened to your uncle," returned her 
 aunt, who added coldly, " Doctor Carrol's death 
 might have been looked for any time within the 
 last twelve months." 
 
 Jessie had known this, but nevertheless the 
 announcement in her aunt's letter had found her 
 entirely unprepared. Ever since reading those 
 words, " Doctor Carrol is dead," they had been re- 
 peating themselves over and over again in her 
 brain, till their import to herself was fully realized. 
 More than once in the last six months she had 
 asked herself what she would do in the event of 
 his death, and her mental response had been im- 
 mediate, "I will go at once to Arlington and 
 find Doctor Landford." 
 
 But was it necessary to do this at once? If she 
 did so it would necessitate her putting herself in 
 direct opposition to her aunt, who would certainly 
 not consent to her starting on a journey without 
 knowing her object and destination. 
 
 If her Aunt Helen had not been here with her 
 there would have seemed no question as to her 
 duty ; for had she not promised the doctor to de- 
 liver the letter as soon as she heard of his death ? 
 That was, certainly, what she had agreed to do.
 
 JESSIE S DILEMMA. 225 
 
 Would it be any easier, though, to keep this 
 promise a few days hence ? They had planned to 
 go home on the morrow, and Jessie could see no 
 way to evade doing so, but by declaring her pur- 
 pose. 
 
 Her aunt's opposition must be met sometime, 
 and as well now, perhaps, as a week hence. For, 
 at any cost, Jessie was determined to keep her 
 promise to the dead, though something seemed to 
 tell her that the consequences would not be light. 
 
 She would wait, however, till their visitor should 
 leave before telling her aunt of the journey she 
 intended taking that night. For a moment she 
 had been tempted to go without her knowledge ; 
 but remembering the night of suffering she had 
 once occasioned her, she had not the heart to re- 
 peat the experience. 
 
 She would tell her that she was going, and 
 where, but that should be all ; for explanations 
 would involve what she had no right at present to 
 divulge. 
 
 But the doctor seemed in no haste to depart, 
 and Jessie, ill at ease under suspense and anxiety 
 for her half-defined plans, was silent and abstracted. 
 Her aunt finally relinquished all effort to draw her
 
 226 JESSIE'S DILEMMA. 
 
 into the conversation, and only once did she seem 
 to take any interest in it whatever ; and that was 
 when the doctor, after commenting upon the use- 
 ful life just closed, remarked that it was very un- 
 fortunate so brilliant an intellect should have been 
 clouded at the last. Then Jessie had interposed. 
 
 " Doctor Carrol has been quite himself for the 
 last two years. His derangement was only tempo- 
 rary." She could not let any one go on supposing 
 Doctor Carrol to have been insane at the time of 
 his death. For Jessie was convinced that he had 
 been in the possession of a sound mind for the 
 time she had mentioned, at least ; otherwise she 
 would not have regarded as binding the promise 
 she had made him. She would not feel herself 
 pledged to carry out the whim of an insane man. 
 Whatever was the mysterious confession which 
 that letter contained, she had for some time felt 
 sure that in the making of it, the overburdened 
 heart and brain had found relief. 
 
 " Why, child, what an idea ! Doctor Carrol 
 not insane for the last two years ! I do not think 
 his family would claim so much for him," Miss 
 Norberry had responded, with her usual asperity 
 where the doctor was concerned.
 
 JESSIE S DILEMMA. 22/ 
 
 To this Jessie did not reply. She was content 
 with the defence she had made, and not caring to 
 differ from her aunt needlessly, was silent. 
 
 Without being able to give any very good reason 
 for it, Jessie had of late felt that the doctor's wife 
 did not care as formerly to see her, and she had 
 therefore quite given up going to Elm Brook Farm. 
 Since mother and son both seemed estranged, she 
 had hesitated to force herself upon them, though 
 the loss of their friendship had been no small trial 
 to her. 
 
 "Then you consider Grey's translation the bet- 
 ter of the two? I had given the preference to 
 Halleck's myself, having often heard my brother 
 speak of it." 
 
 " Yes ; Grey's is a more literal translation of 
 the original, as well as a more scholarly and fin- 
 ished work, though I am aware that Halleck's has 
 long been the standard." 
 
 Miss Norberry and the doctor were speaking of 
 a work which she intended to give her brother as 
 a holiday remembrance ; and now followed a dis- 
 cussion of the relative merits of the two transla- 
 tions. 
 
 Jessie heard this as she heard the distant hum
 
 228 JESSIE'S DILEMMA. 
 
 of the street, and it made no more impression upon 
 her senses ; but she presently remembered that 
 time was slipping away, and she had yet to make 
 some preparations for her contemplated journey. 
 
 She would be obliged to tell her aunt at once 
 that she was going, and evidently would have to 
 make her announcement before the doctor ; for he 
 apparently had no thought of leaving at present. 
 
 " Aunty, I am sorry to disturb you, but I have 
 just learned that I shall be obliged to go to New 
 York to-night, and I wish to take the eight o'clock 
 train. So if you and the doctor will excuse me, I 
 will go and make my arrangements." There was, 
 perhaps, a nervous tremor in Jessie's voice as she 
 said this, but certainly no indecision. 
 
 " Certainly, Miss Jessie ; and pray do not let me 
 detain you a moment," the doctor said, with his 
 usual courtesy. Then consulting his watch, asked 
 if he could not assist her in any way, adding, "You 
 have scant time if you have much to do." 
 
 " Thank you, but my preparations will not take 
 many minutes, as I have very little baggage with 
 me," replied Jessie, who saw that the doctor could 
 render her better aid now by remaining just where 
 he was, than by any more active service, since his
 
 JESSIE S DILEMMA. 22Q 
 
 presence was evidently a curb upon her aunt. 
 For Miss Norberry had replied, with remarkable 
 self-control for her, " Of course you do not for a 
 moment contemplate going to New York alone ; 
 and you certainly do not expect me to accompany 
 you at an hour's notice ? " 
 
 " No, Aunty, I do not expect you to accompany 
 me ; but I must go to-night." There was the dig- 
 nity of a settled purpose in Jessie's tone and man- 
 ner which for a moment cowed her aunt, who 
 quickly recovered herself, however, enough to re- 
 spond, 
 
 " Pshaw, child ! You know I shall not allow you 
 to go to New York alone," and as if this settle 1 
 the matter, she turned to the doctor, who had risen 
 to go, and proposed showing him a list of books 
 which had that noon been sent her from the pub- 
 lishers, and from which she was to make a selection 
 in the morning. 
 
 While Miss Norberry went for this, Jessie and 
 the doctor were left alone. For a moment neither 
 spoke, and then, with a gesture of appeal, Jessie 
 said : " Do not think me an arrant coward, Doctor, 
 when I tell you that it is a terrible thing to me to 
 brave Aunty's authority that I haven't a bit of
 
 23O JESSIE S DILEMMA. 
 
 courage in doing it. But I must go to New York. 
 I am bound by a solemn promise to do so, and if 
 you will help me I shall be forever grateful." Jes- 
 sie was prevented from being more explicit as to 
 what she wanted the doctor to do for her, by her 
 aunt's entrance at this moment. 
 
 The doctor had read in the girl's troubled face 
 and manner a necessity for immediate action, and 
 as soon as Miss Norberry had concluded her volu- 
 ble comments upon the list she had brought him, 
 and to which he had replied as politeness dictated, 
 he changed the subject by saying : 
 
 "As Miss Jessie is obliged to take this journey, 
 allow me to offer myself as her escort. I shall be 
 under the necessity of going to New York within 
 a few days, and I can as well go to-night as any 
 time. So, if you will trust her to my care, I will 
 see her safely home." 
 
 The doctor had addressed Miss Norberry rather 
 than her niece, and it had proved a most politic 
 move. 
 
 " I am sure you are very kind, Doctor. If Jessie 
 were going to New York I should feel she was 
 most fortunate in having your company," returned 
 that lady, who was tactician enough not to weaken
 
 JESSIE S DILEMMA. 23! 
 
 the position she had taken by seeming even to 
 consider the matter. 
 
 " Then you would trust her to me ? " the doctor 
 interposed. 
 
 " I should consider myself most fortunate in 
 finding her such an escort," was Miss Norberry's 
 suave response while removing the wrapper from 
 a parcel she had brought in with her. This proved 
 to be a Latin Testament which she designed giv- 
 ing her nephew Allan, and presently she was des- 
 canting upon the type, style of binding, etc., in 
 a way which would have led one to suppose this 
 matter wholly engrossed her thoughts. 
 
 Jessie, however, understood this fit of loquacity. 
 Her aunt intended to keep the doctor engaged in 
 conversation, giving her no chance to leave the 
 room until it was too late to put her plan in exe- 
 cution ; for in strict etiquette she could not go, as 
 their visitor was still standing. Evidently it must 
 be settled at once if at all, but now she would 
 have two to meet instead of one, as the doctor had 
 only complicated matters in seeking to serve her. 
 
 The most she had thought of his doing was that 
 he might intercede for her with her aunt, and 
 prove an ally against that lady's opposition.
 
 232 JESSIE S DILEMMA. 
 
 " I appreciate the kindness of your offer, Doctor, 
 but I cannot allow you to put yourself to so much 
 trouble," she said in the first pause in the conver- 
 sation, " so I will bid you good-night, and beg you 
 to excuse my leaving you so abruptly ; " and then, 
 with a nod and smile, she had quitted the room. 
 
 " Whatever can the child mean ? She is cer- 
 tainly beside herself to talk of going to New York 
 alone. What am I to do, Doctor?" Evidently 
 for once Miss Norberry was nonplussed. 
 
 "I do not see that you can do anything," was 
 the doctor's reply. 
 
 " But I don't understand what whim she can 
 have got into her head. Of course if it were really 
 necessary she should go I could change my ar- 
 rangements and accompany her." It now occurred 
 to Miss Norberry that she might be standing in 
 her own light to further oppose her niece. It was 
 certainly poor policy to decry Jessie to the man 
 whom she hoped might one day be her husband ; 
 and she had decided on a change of tactics when 
 the doctor interposed. 
 
 " Miss Jessie may certainly be trusted to know 
 her own business, and since she says her going is 
 imperative, you would be doing very wrong to put
 
 JESSIE S DILEMMA. 233 
 
 any obstacle in her way. But give yourself no 
 uneasiness about her. I will go with her, and see 
 that she surfers no harm. The train leaves pre- 
 cisely at eight, and we have a scant hour and a 
 half," the doctor added, looking at his watch, 
 "which will just give me time to send a telegram 
 to my sister, make a few arrangements, and meet 
 Miss Jessie at the station." 
 
 Promising Miss Norberry that she should hear 
 from them as soon as they reached New York, he 
 took his leave of that lady, having first won from 
 her a reluctant consent to her niece's purpose. 
 
 Nevertheless, when Jessie, equipped for her 
 journey, sought her aunt's room to bid her good- 
 by, that lady's wrath broke over the girl's devoted 
 head. She bade her remember that she was going 
 without her consent, and that in acting in direct 
 opposition to her wishes, she had forfeited all 
 right to her regard. 
 
 " I am truly sorry to do so, Aunty, but if I did 
 not know that you would forgive me when I come 
 back and tell you why I was forced to such a step, 
 it would be a great deal harder for me to take it," 
 and pressing a kiss upon the stern face in which 
 there was no sign of relenting, Jessie was gone.
 
 234 JESSIE'S DILEMMA. 
 
 Possibly the quarterly installment of her income 
 which she had that day drawn in her own name, 
 had been a help to her in standing by her purpose. 
 That money in her pocket may have proved a re- 
 minder that she was now legally her own mistress, 
 though this was her first assertion of her rights. 
 
 On her way to the station Jessie stopped at her 
 Aunt Wilson's, where she made a hurried visit to 
 the chamber which she always occupied when there. 
 For two years Doctor Carrol's letter had lain in 
 one of the drawers of an escritoire in this room. 
 While transferring it now to her satchel, Jessie 
 seemed to see the doctor as he had looked that 
 day when she voluntarily renewed her promise, 
 pledging herself to carry out his wishes in regard 
 to it. The memory of that sad face as it had 
 lighted up for a moment seemed to give her 
 strength and courage, and she returned to the car- 
 riage with her heart lightened of half its burden. 
 
 She had adroitly parried her Aunt Wilson's 
 questions, and that lady had only elicited the fact 
 that Jessie was on her way to the station to take 
 the train somewhere, and that scant time had pre- 
 vented any explanation. 
 
 Jessie was no less troubled than surprised to
 
 JESSIE'S DILEMMA. 235 
 
 find Doctor Forney awaiting her at the station, 
 and to learn his determined purpose to accompany 
 her on this journey. 
 
 Beside his own desire to serve her, the doctor 
 urged his promise to her aunt by which he declared 
 himself bound, and since Jessie herself had nothing 
 stronger to advance than the obligation of a prom- 
 ise for the step she was taking, she could not deny 
 the doctor's plea, though, truth to say, she accepted 
 his escort very reluctantly. 
 
 They were no sooner on board the train than she 
 took the first opportunity to tell him that she had 
 not been quite open with her aunt, in giving her to 
 suppose that she was simply going to New York 
 City, as her destination was really a small town in 
 the interior of New York State. 
 
 "But you will not think of going further than 
 the city," she said, in making this explanation, re- 
 minding the doctor of the loss of time which such 
 a journey would entail upon him. 
 
 " But I promised to bring you home, did I 
 not ? " he returned, smiling. 
 
 " But your business ! You did not know to 
 what you committed yourself when you made that 
 promise "
 
 236 JESSIE'S DILEMMA. 
 
 Jessie evidently meant that he should weigh the 
 consequences of the step he was about to take. 
 
 " Oh ! my business can wait. And now, Miss 
 Jessie, unless you positively forbid me, I shall go 
 with you to your journey's end. But if you should 
 not allow me your company it would not absolve 
 me from my promise to your aunt. I should still 
 follow and care for you till I saw you safely home. 
 Let me set you right in this matter," the doctor 
 continued. " You must not think that the taking 
 of this journey is a trouble to me, or even a hin- 
 drance to my work. It will interfere with no en- 
 gagement ; and I promise myself much pleasure 
 from it in fact I feel like a schoolboy getting off 
 on a holiday, and I mean to forget I am not one ; 
 so if I do anything particularly wild or foolish, I 
 hope you will excuse me." 
 
 Jessie laughed. 
 
 " I am afraid you have chosen a poor companion 
 for your holiday ; for I feel like a disobedient girl 
 who has run away from home, and I cannot forget 
 that I am in disgrace there in consequence," she 
 said, a suspicious moisture coming into her eyes 
 ere she had finished. 
 
 " I see," returned the doctor. " You are naughty
 
 JESSIE'S DILEMMA. 237 
 
 so seldom that it does not agree with you. Obedi- 
 ence," he continued, " is a lesson we all have to 
 learn as children, and I fancy you learned yours 
 rather better than most children. But there comes 
 a time in every one's life when they must decide the 
 right and the wrong for themselves. 
 
 "Your aunt naturally wishes to retain the control 
 over you which circumstance has given her, and 
 which she has so long exercised ; for a love of 
 power is inherent in a nature like hers. But if I 
 am not mistaken, she has some Hard lessons yet to 
 learn before she will be willing to accord you your 
 divine right of a personal choice in matters which 
 will make your life's weal or woe." 
 
 " That may be all true, but such reasoning fails 
 to reconcile me to myself ; for I cannofr forget that 
 aunty has given me nearly twenty years of her life, 
 and that my disobedience will be all the harder to 
 her that she has not learned the lessons you speak 
 of," was Jessie's reply, finding it convenient to veil 
 her annoyance in this way.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A NIGHT JOURNEY. 
 
 r I ^*HE train was moving out of the station, and 
 Jessie's attention was now drawn to their 
 fellow passengers, who, with a few exceptions, 
 were all men. Directly in front of her were two 
 ladies who seemed to be without male escort, and 
 at the farther end of the car was a young girl quite 
 alone. 
 
 Whenever Jessie had been over this route before 
 she had had the company either of her uncle or her 
 Aunt Helen, and she was curious to learn whether 
 she would have been the only lady travelling alone 
 that night, had the doctor not insisted upon being 
 her escort. She had taken such a possibility into 
 account in making her plans, realizing all the un- 
 pleasantness of the situation ; so she was glad to 
 find that there would have been others of her own 
 sex to have kept her in countenance on this night 
 journey. 
 
 Now she found herself wishing that she were 
 238
 
 A NIGHT JOURNEY. 239 
 
 alone, that she might make the acquaintance of this 
 girl who was apparently circumstanced as she had 
 expected to be. Had this girl defied her friends to 
 take this journey alone ; and was she feeling the 
 solitariness of her position ? 
 
 That she was quite young and slight in form was 
 evident even at this distance, and her dress and 
 travelling equipments suggested good taste and re- 
 finement. A close gray veil was tied over her hat, 
 hiding the outline of her face, but the hand which 
 arranged this veil from time to time, was small and 
 daintily gloved. 
 
 The passengers were beginning to settle them- 
 selves into comfortable positions for napping, as a 
 four-hours ride was before them ; this being the 
 boat express, and the train not so crowded but that 
 in many instances a whole seat was available. 
 
 Long after Jessie had succumbed to fatigue, and 
 gladly had recourse to her travelling shawl for a pil- 
 low, she noticed that her young fellow passenger, 
 who was evidently a novice at night journeying, 
 still kept her upright position. 
 
 Jessie was conscious of having been asleep when 
 the train came suddenly to a standstill, and she 
 saw that the passengers were leaving the car.
 
 24O A NIGHT JOURNEY. 
 
 " We need be in no hurry, as the train does not 
 go farther ; but I am glad for your sake, Miss Jes- 
 sie, of this break in the journey," the doctor was 
 saying, when, looking up, Jessie encountered a pair 
 of large, wondering eyes fixed upon her, which might 
 have belonged to a child of six years. The next 
 moment she saw that these troubled questioning 
 orbs were the property of her fellow passenger about 
 whom she had speculated earlier in the evening. 
 
 Something in the sweet childish face appealed 
 to Jessie, and putting out her hand just as the girl 
 was being jostled past her, she said, 
 
 " Are you alone, child ? " and the next moment 
 she had drawn the unresisting girl out of the crowd. 
 
 " Yes ; and I am ever so frightened. I was never 
 on the night train before," was the latter's naive re- 
 ply as she nestled close to Jessie's side. 
 
 " I do not wonder ; but you need not be afraid 
 any more : keep close to us, and we will look out 
 for you," was Jessie's sympathetic rejoinder as she 
 followed the doctor out of the car, wondering who 
 could have had the heart to trust such an irrespon- 
 sible child to take care of herself. 
 
 " Oh ! I am ever so glad," was the grateful re- 
 sponse.
 
 A NIGHT JOURNEY. 24! 
 
 Doctor Forney had taken the precaution to tele- 
 graph for staterooms on the boat, so Jessie and her 
 young protegt found themselves at once provided 
 with sleeping accommodations, while the doctor 
 assured them he should be near at hand, as their 
 staterooms were contiguous. 
 
 " I think you were awfully good to let me come 
 with you. I never was on a night boat in my life, 
 and I did dread it so much. Uncle John wrote 
 me to be sure and not get asleep on the train and 
 be left ; but he needn't have been afraid, for I 
 couldn't have shut my eyes for two minutes," was 
 the ingenuous declaration of Jessie's companion 
 the moment they found themselves alone. The 
 next she told her that her name was Katie Brent, 
 and that she had been attending school in Boston. 
 
 " But I haven't told you how I happened to be 
 alone," Katie continued. " I got a letter from 
 Uncle John yesterday morning, with word to come 
 right home because mamma is very sick ; and I 
 had to come alone, because he couldn't leave to 
 fetch me. Papa is dead, and Uncle John takes 
 care of mamma and me." 
 
 " Do you live in New York?" Jessie asked, won- 
 dering, if so, why she had been sent East to school.
 
 242 A NIGHT JOURNEY. 
 
 " O, no ! My home is in Lawson, and I shall 
 not reach there till to-morrow afternoon. I have 
 to take the train at eight o'clock in the morning, 
 on the Michigan Central." 
 
 " Then you will go all the way with us, for that 
 is our route. We stop at Arlington," was Jessie's 
 reply. 
 
 "Why, Arlington is only ten miles beyoud Law- 
 son. Of course we take the same train. Isn't 
 that splendid ? We have friends in Arlington, and 
 mamma and I often drive over there," Katie added. 
 
 It was on Jessie's tongue to ask her if she knew 
 Doctor Landford ; but a question which Katie put 
 at the moment drove it entirely from her mind. 
 
 " Is Doctor Forney any relation ? or is he your 
 friend ? " Katie added with a little hesitation. 
 
 " No ; he is not related to me, but he was my 
 father's friend when I was a little girl, and now 
 that my father is dead, he is my friend ; and he 
 has come this journey purposely to take care of 
 me." Jessie's tone was the least bit incisive as 
 she said this, and a pair of large blue eyes were 
 turned quickly upon her. But apparently Katie 
 found nothing discomforting in the kindly eyes 
 that met her own, for she said at once,
 
 A NIGHT JOURNEY. 243 
 
 "How good of him! It must be very nice to 
 have such a friend to take care of one ; and then 
 he is so not exactly handsome, but distinguished 
 looking." 
 
 Jessie had not yet felt the need of a protector 
 on this journey, nor had she quite reconciled her- 
 self to having one. The peculiar nature of her 
 errand made the doctor's care savor too much of 
 espionage to be entirely agreeable to her, but she 
 replied, " Yes ; he is very kind to put himself to 
 so much trouble for me," and then she bade Katie 
 try and sleep, or she might be ill on the morrow. 
 
 To her surprise, the child (for she was little more 
 than one) subsided at once. 
 
 " What is the matter, dear, are you ill ? " Jessie 
 asked, when, presently, hearing a sob, she became 
 conscious that her young companion was crying. 
 
 "No; but I was thinking of mamma. I am 
 afraid she will die, for Uncle John wrote she was 
 very sick." 
 
 " Oh ! I hope not. You are tired to-night, and 
 so you see the dark side. She may be very much 
 better now than when your uncle wrote. Perhaps 
 you will go to sleep quicker if I lie down with 
 you," Jessie said kindly.
 
 244 A NIGHT JOURNEY. 
 
 Room was at once made for her, and she was no 
 sooner beside her young friend than a pair of soft, 
 caressing arms stole about her neck. 
 
 " I thought you were so tired that you would go 
 right to sleep," she said. 
 
 " I kept thinking about mamma, and I could 
 not," was Katie's reply ; but a little later her deep 
 and regular breathing told that sleep had now 
 overtaken her. Evidently she had felt lonely, and 
 in finding companionship in the near presence of 
 her friend, she had also found rest. 
 
 By this time, however, Jessie was so wide awake 
 that sleep in her own case seemed out of the ques- 
 tion, though she could but feel thankful for the 
 impulse which had prompted her to take this girl 
 into her care, since Katie would have been likely 
 to suffer untold agonies alone, besides the risk to 
 which she would have been exposed of falling into 
 companionship which might have sullied the purity 
 of her young life.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 REVELATIONS. 
 
 THE morning train North from New York took 
 our little party of travellers. The doctor had 
 found time in some miraculous manner to supply 
 himself with a small carpet bag, plethoric, however, 
 in its proportions. He laughingly affirmed in bring- 
 ing it into the car that he had not much idea what 
 was in it ; but since it was the fashion to have such 
 an appendage, he had thought best to procure one. 
 
 Jessie had not before realized the hasty prepara- 
 tions which the doctor had been obliged to make 
 for this journey ; or the fact that he had come away 
 without those conveniences of the toilet which even 
 twenty-four hours make necessary. 
 
 " I am afraid, Doctor, that you did not count the 
 cost when you proposed yourself as knight-errant 
 to a headstrong girl," she said a little ruefully ; for 
 this reminder of his needs showed her the incon- 
 venience to which he must have been subjected. 
 
 " This service is not service, so being done, but 
 245
 
 246 REVELATIONS. 
 
 being so allowed," returned the doctor, smilingly 
 adding, " Should one always count the cost of a 
 pleasure ? I know that moralists prate of the wis- 
 dom of doing so ; but I shall take refuge for any 
 such imprudences in the more pleasing philosophy 
 which bids us seize and be thankful for all the op- 
 portunities that the gods offer." 
 
 A moment before Jessie had been reminded of 
 the unconventional position in which she found 
 herself, as a handsome pair of grays were driven 
 up to the station, and from the carriage had 
 alighted a young lady whom she had more than 
 once met in the upper circles of New York so- 
 ciety. 
 
 But Miss Viola Hammersmith had not seen her 
 as she crossed the waiting room with friends who 
 were to take the train ; and Jessie had been saved 
 introductions and explanations which would at least 
 have been embarrassing. 
 
 The bright morning, and the prospect of no more 
 changes, had transformed Katie Brent who was fairly 
 beaming with life and fun ; nothing having in it the 
 least element of ludicrousness escaped her. 
 
 The scenery through which they were soon pass- 
 ing was new to Jessie, and unconsciously she had
 
 REVELATIONS. 
 
 given herself up to observation of the country, 
 leaving Katie and the doctor, who had become 
 very good friends, to amuse themselves. 
 
 After a time she was conscious of the doctor's 
 leaving the car, and presently her train of thought 
 was broken by Katie's touching her on the shoul- 
 der, and asking if she intended to stay in Arling- 
 ton long. 
 
 " I hope to get through my business there in a 
 few hours," was Jessie's reply; and then the ques- 
 tion which she had been about to ask Katie the 
 night before, recurred to her. 
 
 " I believe you said you were acquainted in Ar- 
 lington. Do you know Doctor Landford there ? " 
 
 " O, yes ! That is, I have often seen him. He 
 was called in to consult with our own physician 
 when papa was sick. But he isn't there now, you 
 know ; he moved out West as much as two years 
 ago." 
 
 "Not in Arlington now?" was Jessie's excla- 
 mation. 
 
 " No ; he went out West and bought a farm. 
 Then you didn't know he'd gone away, and have 
 come all this distance to see him ? " said Katie, 
 struck by the troubled look on her friend's face.
 
 248 REVELATIONS. 
 
 " Yes ; I have come all this way to see him. 
 How very unfortunate that he should have moved 
 away. You are quite sure he has?" she asked, 
 finding herself hoping that Katie was mistaken. 
 
 " O, yes ! He gave up practice because his 
 health was failing, and it's certainly two years 
 since he went away." Katie evidently knew of 
 what she was talking. 
 
 Glancing up at the moment, Jessie saw the doc- 
 tor on the car-platform in conversation with another 
 passenger, and suddenly remembered that what 
 she had just learned would affect him as much as 
 herself. 
 
 How was she to tell him that this journey to 
 Arlington was a wild-goose chase, after all, since 
 the man she sought was not there ? If she had 
 been alone this circumstance would have lost half 
 its annoyance to her just then. 
 
 Why had the doctor insisted upon coming with 
 her? She must think what to do now, and she 
 found herself hoping that the doctor would not 
 return to his seat beside her until she had arranged 
 her course of action. 
 
 Since Katie did not know where in the West 
 Doctor Landford was, there seemed nothing else
 
 REVELATIONS. 249 
 
 to do but to keep on to Arlington, where he had 
 formerly lived, and where they would be able to 
 learn his present residence; for she could not 
 abandon her purpose. If he were living she must 
 find him. 
 
 The undertaking had suddenly assumed a dif- 
 ferent aspect, however. If she were obliged to 
 greatly extend her journey, she must write her 
 friends, as she had no right to cause them need- 
 less anxiety by a prolonged absence. 
 
 And now Jessie felt that she had made a mis- 
 take in leaving her aunt entirely in the dark as to 
 her errand. She should have told her that it was 
 something which she had promised to do for Doc- 
 tor Carrol ; and that lady was not so obtuse but 
 she would have recognized a promise to the dead 
 as a binding obligation. She would write and tell 
 her Aunt Helen this on reaching Arlington. 
 
 But there was the doctor still to be told. How 
 would he take the communication which she must 
 at once make him that Arlington was not, after 
 all, to be the end of her journey ? Jessie wished 
 now that she had not been so reticent with him. 
 Since she must make him some explanation, she 
 determined to be even more explicit in doing so
 
 25O REVELATIONS. 
 
 than it seemed well to be with her aunt at the 
 present stage of affairs. 
 
 She had just decided as to how far she would 
 be justified in committing herself, when the doctor 
 returned to his seat, bringing with him an assort- 
 ment of reading matter. 
 
 " Now you will have something with which to 
 amuse yourselves," he said, distributing it between 
 Jessie and her companion. 
 
 " Doctor, I have a confession to make," said the 
 former, as he took his seat beside her. 
 
 " I can promise you absolution all the same, 
 without hearing it," was his reply. 
 
 " You may not be so ready to absolve me when 
 you learn that in part, at least, my confession is 
 compulsory," Jessie returned, frankly meeting the 
 kindly eyes turned upon her. 
 
 "Not at all compulsory. Tell me just as much 
 or as little as you please. I have asked no ques- 
 tions, because I know I may trust you ; and if you 
 tell me nothing, I shall still do so," was the doctor's 
 hearty rejoinder. 
 
 "You are very kind, but I see now that I ought 
 to have told you in the first place, that my errand 
 to Arlington is on business for Doctor Carrol."
 
 REVELATIONS. 251 
 
 " Ah ! Did his death make this business neces- 
 sary, may I ask ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I made him a promise more than two 
 years ago, which was to be kept as soon as I heard 
 of his death. It was simply to deliver a letter to 
 his old friend, Doctor Landford. But Doctor Car- 
 rol did not wish it should be received till after his 
 death ; and it contained a communication of such 
 importance that even then he did not wish it 
 trusted to the mails. But meanwhile he charged 
 me to say nothing of it to any one, and that charge 
 sealed my lips when I could give no reason for 
 taking this journey. I have never before men- 
 tioned it, and I should not now, only that circum- 
 stances have conspired to make it necessary. 
 
 "You perhaps know," Jessie went on, "that 
 Doctor Carrol was subject to strange fits of de- 
 pression ; but you may never have heard that he 
 accused himself, at times, of a great crime. From 
 his own words, I gather that this letter is an expla- 
 nation of the matter which has long been a mys- 
 tery to his family. For some reason, he seemed 
 to take a fancy to me, and to feel that he could 
 leave what he called his confession, in my hands ; 
 though why he should have done so I have never
 
 252 REVELATIONS. 
 
 understood. You may say I was unwise to take 
 sueh a trust, and I assure you I regretted after- 
 ward having done so ; but the circumstances of 
 my accepting it were peculiar. Later, when I 
 tried to return this letter to the doctor, and be 
 free of any obligation in the matter, he seemed so 
 distressed that I relinquished my purpose. His 
 evident grief and disappointment that I should 
 wish to do so made me repent my unwillingness 
 to execute so small a service for him, and I volun- 
 tarily bound myself then by a solemn promise, to 
 carry the letter to Doctor Landford. And now 
 comes my reason for telling you this story. It 
 seems Doctor Landford is not in Arlington, as I 
 supposed. I have just learned from Miss Katie 
 that he removed from there more than two years 
 ago, went West and bought a farm ; she does 
 not know just where." 
 
 " So you will be obliged to give up your attempt 
 to find him." The doctor spoke as if such a pro- 
 ceeding were the only one to be entertained. 
 
 " No ; I do not propose to give it up. If Doctor 
 Lajidford is living and in the country, I do not in- 
 tend to go home till I find him ; for I feel that my 
 promise to Doctor Carrol holds me to this duty.
 
 REVELATIONS. 253 
 
 I shall go on to Arlington and learn Doctor Land- 
 ford's present place of abode, and then I will write 
 to Aunty, giving her some explanations which will 
 account for my prolonged absence." 
 
 "I do not wish to dissuade you, Miss Jessie, 
 from doing what you feel to be a duty, but do you 
 not exaggerate the obligation ? Have you consid- 
 ered the difficulties that may lie in your way? 
 This is a big country. Have you realized what 
 'West' might mean? Doctor Landford may have 
 gone beyond the pale of civilization," Doctor For- 
 ney continued ; " for there is no accounting for the 
 eccentric freaks which may take a man afflicted 
 with the farm-mania, particularly one who has 
 been tied up all his life to a profession. What if 
 your quest should take you to Kansas or Ne- 
 braska ? " 
 
 "The prospect of a long journey does not in- 
 timidate me," was Jessie's reply. " My only trou- 
 ble is " she hesitated before adding "that you 
 will feel yourself obliged to go with me." 
 
 " Do you wish to go alone ? " the doctor asked 
 gravely. 
 
 " No ; to be frank, I do not. It would be much 
 pleasanter to have company. But I have no right
 
 254 REVELATIONS. 
 
 to expect or accept such a sacrifice of your time 
 and plans, to say nothing of any other trouble to 
 which it would put you. And, Doctor, I want to 
 assure you now that I am not ungrateful for all 
 your kindness, though it shames me to remember 
 how ungraciously I accepted your company." 
 
 That he had held his position on sufferance only, 
 the doctor had been well aware ; but even then he 
 had found pleasure in it. Under other circum- 
 stances he might have counselled waiting until 
 Doctor Landford could be heard from, or till the 
 time of year was more favorable for travelling, but 
 he did neither. 
 
 " I will forgive you for any sins against myself 
 in that direction, either real or imaginary," he said ; 
 and then added more seriously, "but is a man's 
 promise not every whit as binding upon him as a 
 woman's upon her ? You rather put me to shame 
 when you infer that so slight an obstacle as a long 
 journey will keep me from fulfilling mine to your 
 aunt. Is it quite fair to doubt that anything which 
 I can do for you will give me pleasure, Miss Jes- 
 sie ? If you propose crossing the continent, I am 
 at your service." There was a sincerity in the 
 doctor's words and manner which touched Jessie.
 
 REVELATIONS. 255 
 
 No ; it was not fair to doubt him after such 
 proof as he had given her : and would she be wise 
 to exchange his companionship for that of her 
 aunt, even if she could be persuaded to go with 
 her? 
 
 For it had occurred to Jessie that she might wait 
 in Arlington for her relative to join her. But, 
 truth to say, she did not find the thought of this 
 agreeable. 
 
 " Doctor, I shall be truly grateful if you will go 
 with me ; but it will always be on my conscience 
 to have put you to so much trouble," was her 
 hearty response. 
 
 " Not at all, Miss Jessie ; Colorado or California, 
 just as you say. It is all the same to me," was 
 his gracious reply. 
 
 "Oh! I hope it will not take us quite to the An- 
 tipodes," laughingly rejoined Jessie. 
 
 This conference had been carried on in so low a 
 tone that even Katie on the next seat knew noth- 
 ing of its import. She was aware that her friends 
 were engaged in earnest conversation, but at the 
 doctor's last cheery rejoinder, the tone of which 
 only she had caught, she held up a grotesque car- 
 toon, and her lively comments upon it produced a
 
 256 REVELATIONS. 
 
 merry laugh from her friends, and the conversation 
 became general. 
 
 Though the morning had seemed to promise a 
 pleasant day, the afternoon proved gray and low- 
 ery ; and in the early falling shadows of evening 
 Jessie and the doctor took leave of Katie Brent. 
 From the car window they saw their late compan- 
 ion driven away in her uncle's carriage, receiving 
 from her a parting salute in the kiss she had 
 thrown them, her bright face being a sufficient 
 guaranty that no sad tidings had awaited her.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 WESTWARD BOUND. 
 
 DOCTOR LANDFORD had moved to Kan- 
 sas, our friends were informed on reaching 
 Arlington, and that he was living, and very much 
 improved in health for the change, his old neigh- 
 bors who heard from him often, were able to affirm. 
 
 The following night found Jessie and the doctor 
 at Rochester, whence they started on their West- 
 ward-bound journey. Our readers must know that 
 this was before palace and sleeping cars whirled 
 one over the rails in happy unconsciousness of 
 travelling : when the cramped quarters of the or- 
 dinary railroad car were perhaps accepted with as 
 little murmuring as are the more luxurious accom- 
 modations of the present time. 
 
 On passing through Indianapolis, the second 
 night of their journey, Jessie was roused from an 
 unrestful nap by the lights of the station flashing 
 into the car, and the noise and bustle of entering 
 and departing passengers. Human nature had 
 
 257
 
 258 WESTWARD BOUND. 
 
 never looked quite so forlorn to her as did some 
 of the people who had been waiting for this mid- 
 night train, and she found herself sympathizing 
 with their expressions of thankfulness when they 
 and their belongings were comfortably disposed 
 aboard the car. 
 
 As they ran out of the station Jessie saw that 
 it was snowing, but fatigue had soon made her 
 again unconscious of her surroundings. The coun- 
 try over which they were speeding the following 
 morning lay several feet deep in snow ; and it was 
 still falling, making a dreary outlook from the car 
 window, and one from which our friends turned 
 with an undefined feeling of dread. 
 
 As the day advanced the storm increased, or 
 rather they were running into it, as soon became 
 apparent. The railroad officials seemed to appre- 
 hend no trouble from it, however, when they left 
 St. Louis that afternoon, and relying upon what 
 they said, rather than upon his own judgment, the 
 doctor had decided to go on. 
 
 By dark a second engine was telegraphed for, 
 as fears were now entertained that they would not 
 be able to get through, having found the snow on 
 the prairies deeper than had been calculated upon.
 
 WESTWARD BOUND. 259 
 
 They received their accession of steam at Stick- 
 ney, where they had waited for it, a small dreary 
 town in Eastern Missouri, which boasted of but 
 one public house, and that of anything but an in- 
 viting character. 
 
 Had the town promised ordinary comforts the 
 doctor would have proposed stopping over. Later 
 he regretted that they had not taken such accom- 
 modations as Stickney offered ; for they had ac- 
 complished but a few miles when they found them- 
 selves unable to proceed. 
 
 One of their engines had given out, and the 
 other was entirely inadequate to make its way 
 through the drifts here encountered. 
 
 The outlook was now most discouraging, for the 
 next station was all of ten miles beyond, and in 
 their rear was the disabled engine ; so to advance 
 or go back was alike impossible. 
 
 A council was held, the result of which was that 
 the greater part of the passengers went to the help 
 of the train hands ; and after considerable labor 
 and delay they cleared their snow-bound engine, 
 and were once more in motion, having left the 
 disabled one on the track. 
 
 To reach the next station was now the limit of
 
 26O WESTWARD BOUND. 
 
 their hopes, but even this was not to be realized, 
 for, scarcely a mile on, they encountered another 
 blockade more formidable than the first ; and now 
 the wind and driving sleet made an attempt at 
 clearing the track impracticable. There was noth- 
 ing to be done but wait where they were till morn- 
 ing, when it was hoped the storm would have abated. 
 
 Jessie had known early in the evening that ap- 
 prehensions were entertained of their not getting 
 through ; but the most she had feared had been 
 delay. That they would be storm-bound on the 
 open prairies had not occurred to her. 
 
 When they left Stickney with the second engine 
 she had supposed there would be no more trouble, 
 and had settled down hoping to sleep and get re- 
 lief from the blinding headache with which she 
 had all the afternoon been suffering. 
 
 As night came on the cold grew intense, and 
 this now proved another discomfort to our travel- 
 lers. If the doctor had not wisely taken the pre- 
 caution to provide extra wraps at Rochester, they 
 would have been poorly prepared to encounter the 
 biting wind which penetrated every corner of the 
 frail structure which was their only shelter from 
 the storm.
 
 WESTWARD BOUND. 26 1 
 
 Fuel was not short, and a good fire was kept hi 
 the stove ; but it seemed to make little impression 
 upon the atmosphere a few feet away from it, and 
 round it were huddled those of the passengers 
 who could come within the radius of its warmth. 
 
 Fatigue and anxiety had by midnight induced 
 the severest headache to which Jessie had ever 
 been a victim, and though she would gladly have 
 kept all knowledge of her suffering from the doc- 
 tor, she found it impossible to suppress all ex- 
 pression of distress. 
 
 So, added to the other exigencies of the situa- 
 tion, the doctor's mind was harrowed by the fear 
 that Jessie would succumb to the hardships of 
 this journey. Ur.less rest and proper care were 
 soon to be had, she would be really ill, if indeed 
 not so already. 
 
 It was the keenest torture to him to know that 
 she was suffering, and to find himself helpless to 
 relieve her. The moan that now and then escaped 
 her lips was like a stab to his heart. He had been 
 an insensible brute to let this delicate girl attempt 
 such a journey. He should not have permitted 
 her to come out here to these Western wilds at 
 this time of year. In the bitterness of his spirit
 
 262 WESTWARD BOUND. 
 
 that he was powerless to save her from her pres- 
 ent suffering, he accused himself of having been 
 led by the promptings of his own selfish heart 
 which found such delight in her presence, rather 
 than by the consideration of her true welfare. 
 
 That Jessie had been firm in her purpose to 
 take this journey even against his remonstrance 
 did not count with him now. He was a man, and 
 knew the perils of such an undertaking better than 
 she did ; and he should not have allowed it. She 
 would have listened to reason had he presented 
 the case to her as it was his duty to have done. 
 Now if anything happened to her, how should he 
 meet the friends who were trusting her to his 
 care ? 
 
 This man's feelings were not to be envied as he 
 paced the aisle of that railroad car the greater part 
 of the night ; for the intense cold made movement 
 imperative, since he had used, early in the even- 
 ing, every available wrap to protect Jessie. 
 
 If he could have seen her eyes close, and know 
 that she was sleeping, he would have found the 
 situation far less trying ; but to meet at every 
 turn the flushed face and the mute suffering in her 
 eyes tortured him almost to madness.
 
 WESTWARD BOUND. 263 
 
 When the long-looked-for morning dawned it 
 was found that the storm had indeed abated, though 
 a vast sheet of snow in mountainous drifts lay in 
 unbroken whiteness about them, and not a habita- 
 tion within miles. 
 
 As soon as it was fairly light a number of the 
 train hands had started for Stickney to get help, 
 and with them had gone some half-dozen of the 
 passengers to procure provisions. 
 
 The doctor had proposed making one of the 
 party, thinking to find something in the town to 
 relieve Jessie's head, a commission which he could 
 hardly depute to another, but she would not hear 
 to his leaving her, and he reluctantly yielded to 
 her entreaties not to do so, though he had liber- 
 ally contributed to the purse made up for supplies. 
 
 A feverish unrest seized Jessie if the doctor 
 quitted her side even for a moment ; and the thought 
 of having him gone for hours filled her with a 
 nervous terror. 
 
 Among the passengers was but one person to 
 whom Jessie felt herself in the least drawn, and 
 that was a woman whose tidy, though rusty, black 
 dress bespoke respectable poverty. 
 
 In one of the intervals in which the doctor had
 
 264 WESTWARD BOUND. 
 
 left her to take an outlook at the weather, Jessie 
 had first spoken to Mrs. Mitchel, and learned that 
 she was a minister's widow, and a native of New 
 England. But it seemed she had lived for the 
 last thirty years in the West, and was now return- 
 ing from a visit in Eastern Missouri to her home 
 in Kansas where she owned a small place. 
 
 Her sweet, serene face had first attracted Jessie, 
 and on making her acquaintance the pleasing im- 
 pression was borne out ; for Mrs. Mitchel was a 
 lady, though bearing the evidences of poverty and 
 hard work in her dress anJ person. Somehow 
 this woman's presence gave Jessie a sense of pro- 
 tection, for the beautiful girl found herself the ob- 
 ject of more attention than was at all pleasing ; 
 and but for Mrs. Mitchel being near she would 
 have dreaded the doctor's leaving her for a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 Few of us find it easy to be heroic and unselfish 
 while our nerves are crying out with pain which 
 takes all our strength to bear. 
 
 The morning had brought Jessie no relief from 
 the distress in her head, while the murmuring and 
 complaints of those about her, who were suffering 
 far less discomfort, had become nearly unbearable.
 
 WESTWARD BOUND. 265 
 
 Only to be alone, anywhere, it mattered not where. 
 For one blessed hour of entire seclusion Jessie felt 
 she would willingly have sacrificed most anything 
 that she possessed. But no ; her present torture 
 must be borne, and there was no calculating how 
 long. 
 
 By noon she began to regret that she had op- 
 posed the doctor's going to Stickney ; for the men 
 who had left in the morning for supplies had not 
 yet returned, and she remembered that the doc- 
 tor had not eaten a proper meal since his dinner 
 the day before, at St. Louis. 
 
 Before leaving the hotel there he had taken the 
 precaution to have some sandwiches put up for 
 Jessie's lunch, as she had eaten a very light din- 
 ner. Two of these she had that morning given 
 Mrs. Mitchel, but there were more left in her bas- 
 ket as well as some crackers and cake. 
 
 Having no disposition herself to eat, she had 
 not remembered this food till she heard those 
 about her complaining of hunger. Finding she 
 could not induce the doctor to make use of it she 
 proposed that he should give it to a young woman 
 in the next seat, who had a child with her ; but 
 this he declined to do
 
 266 WESTWARD BOUND. 
 
 " You will be able to eat something yourself by 
 and by, and possibly no supplies will reach us to 
 night," he said, as a reason for not doing as she 
 wished. 
 
 This possibility had not occurred to Jessie, but 
 it was on his account that it now gave her con- 
 cern. 
 
 " What will you do ? You have eaten nothing 
 to-day," she said earnestly. "Do take one of 
 these sandwiches to please me." 
 
 " I think I shall get along as well as the rest,'-* 
 he said, smiling. But on her further urging the 
 basket upon him, he consented to give its contents 
 to those who seemed most in need, provided she 
 would allow him to go and get something fresh for 
 herself ; otherwise it should not be disturbed. 
 
 " But I do not need anything. Believe me, I 
 could not eat the most tempting dish in the world, 
 so do not keep food for me that others are suffer- 
 ing for. I was selfish, however, in not letting you 
 go to Stickney with the rest, for there you could 
 have had a warm dinner. I see I did wrong to 
 keep you." 
 
 "It is not too late now," he returned ; "if you 
 think you can get along for a few hours, it will
 
 WESTWARD BOUND. 26/ 
 
 not take me longer. I shall be back, if possible, 
 before dark, with something you will be able to eat, 
 I hope," he said, acting at once upon her conces- 
 sion. Before she could remonstrate he passed the 
 basket to Mrs. Mitchel, telling her to help herself, 
 and distribute the remainder. 
 
 " And you did not take so much as a cracker," 
 Jessie said regretfully, as the basket was returned. 
 
 Before leaving the car the doctor installed Mrs. 
 Mitchel in his place, bidding her take good care of 
 Miss Norberry till his return, and then, with a lin- 
 gering glance at the flushed face, he was gone. 
 
 Three weary hours passed, and then it was an- 
 nounced that the party, who had left in the morn- 
 ing, were in sight ; and a few minutes afterward 
 they boarded the train. It seemed they had met 
 the doctor within a mile of Stickney, all right, but 
 they predicted he would not be back that night, 
 as he would never be able to face the wind, which 
 was fearful. 
 
 They reported the telegraph wires all down, so 
 no aid was to be expected through them. But 
 workmen had come out from Stickney who were 
 already patching up their disabled engine in order 
 that they might get through with it.
 
 268 WESTWARD BOUND. 
 
 It was evident at once that liquor had been pro- 
 cured in town as well as food, for the returning 
 party were far more hilarious than circumstances 
 seemed to warrant. 
 
 When the supplies were passed around among 
 the passengers, Jessie courteously, but firmly de- 
 clined what was pressed upon her acceptance. 
 She had turned with loathing from the cold ham 
 and hard biscuit and cheese, though her refusal 
 of the food had shown nothing of this. 
 
 She could not eat anything. She had no ap- 
 petite, she said, but thanked those who were 
 anxious that she should have her share. 
 
 "Well, if you can't eat, this is just the stuff 
 that will cure you," said a half-tipsy man, thrust- 
 ing a bottle in her face, with the rough injunction, 
 "Take some of it, and it will bring the appetite." 
 
 A glance at the man who proffered it, showed 
 Jessie that her best course would be to ignore the 
 offered panacea, since it would be futile to argue 
 with a person in his condition. 
 
 Her tacit rejection of the liquor, or Mrs. Mitch- 
 el's timid protest against his forcing upon the 
 young lady what she did not want, seemingly an- 
 gered the drunken man, who with an oath raised
 
 WESTWARD BOUND. 269 
 
 the bottle, and the next instant it would have been 
 flung in Jessie's face, had not the uplifted hand 
 been suddenly dashed aside. The next moment 
 sturdy arms had pinioned the half-tipsy man, while 
 muttered imprecations were coupled with the com- 
 mand to let the young lady alone. 
 
 A horror of what she had just barely escaped 
 seized Jessie, and the next moment she had lost 
 all consciousness of what was passing around her. 
 Nature had finally succumbed to the strain brought 
 to bear upon it, and, for the first time in her life, 
 Jessie had fainted. 
 
 Mrs. Mitchel was quickly surrounded by those 
 who would have gladly assisted in the restoration 
 of the beautiful girl whose late peril had excited 
 the sympathy of every one about her, and when a 
 few moments later she opened her eyes they rested 
 only on friendly faces. 
 
 " Did I faint ? " she asked, realizing from the 
 disorder of her dress and surroundings something 
 of the efforts which had been make to restore her. 
 
 Then it all came back, the drunken man with 
 his upraised arm and angry manner, and for a mo- 
 ment it seemed likely that her swoon would be 
 repeated.
 
 2/O WESTWARD BOUND. 
 
 From this, however, she had rallied, and Mrs. 
 Mitchel feeling the necessity of quiet for her 
 charge, begged those who had gathered round 
 them, anxious to render aid, to leave her now, that 
 she might sleep, and presently Jessie had fallen 
 into what seemed a comfortable nap. 
 
 Then it was the good woman discovered that 
 her companion's satchel had been overturned, and 
 its contents scattered about, in the effort to find 
 cologne or smelling-salts during her faint. And 
 among other things strewn over the seat and upon 
 the floor, was a letter, which, in returning to the 
 bag, her eye happened to fall upon the address, a 
 familiar one to herself. 
 
 " I wonder if she knows Doctor Landford ? She 
 must have forgotten to mail this letter to him. 
 I'll remind her of it when she rouses up," was Mrs. 
 Mitchel's thought as she restored the letter to her 
 young friend's satchel. 
 
 Meanwhile Jessie was entirely unconscious how 
 near she had come to losing the letter which was 
 the cause of all her present trouble and discomfort. 
 
 While lying in her semiquiescent state in which 
 her faint had left her, she was feeling herself most 
 fortunate in not having been allowed to come on
 
 WESTWARD BOUND. 2/1 
 
 this journey alone, which would have happened but 
 for the doctor's kind persistence. Never till now 
 had she realized the limitations to which as a 
 woman she was bound. She had thought that her 
 brave, strong spirit would carry her through what- 
 ever it might be necessary to meet ; but this after- 
 noon she had received a lesson which had taught 
 her the weakness and dependence of her sex. 
 
 In promising to carry out Doctor Carrol's wishes, 
 she had counted upon no other impediment than 
 the opposition of friends, and the conviction which 
 was now forced upon her, that she could hardly 
 have kept that promise without Doctor Forney's 
 aid, was humiliating in the extreme. 
 
 She would be under obligations to him now as 
 long as she lived, since there was no way in which 
 she could repay him for this service. 
 
 Yes ; there was one way in which she might 
 cancel this obligation. Why was the thought so 
 repugnant to her ? Certainly she knew of no one 
 to whom she would sooner entrust her interests. 
 
 Perhaps it was a relic of schoolgirl sentiment - 
 alism which made her feel that for one's husband 
 one should entertain something more than re- 
 spect and confidence a warmer feeling even than
 
 2/2 WESTWARD BOUND. 
 
 admiration for his virtues. Might not such a mar- 
 riage relation as that of which she had sometimes 
 dreamed be merely a myth ? Would not such a 
 complete absorption of one's self in another be a 
 hindrance to higher growth ? Was her Aunt 
 Helen entirely in the wrong when she affirmed, 
 as she often did, that women had arrived at a state 
 of beatitude when a lover was not essential to their 
 existence ? Jessie had sometimes thought there 
 might be truth in her aunt's logic when she had 
 caught a glimpse of the real life of some of her 
 young married friends. 
 
 But why did the doctor not return ? She was 
 recalled to the remembrance of this fact by the 
 lamps being lighted in the car. Could anything 
 have happened to him ? With a feeling of self- 
 condemnation that she had rested easily so long, 
 while he had been meeting exposure for her for 
 she felt sure he had gone to town more on her 
 account than his own she raised herself on her 
 elbow and peered anxiously out into the gathering 
 shadows. 
 
 It happened at this moment that the doctor 
 entered the car, and noted the wistful expression 
 of the face turned toward the window pane.
 
 WESTWARD BOUND. 2/3 
 
 " Back at last, safe and sound. I hope you have 
 not been anxious," he said, reaching her side 
 before she saw him. 
 
 Jessie turned quickly, and there was a world of 
 feeling in the soft eyes that she raised to his face, 
 not less beautiful that tears stood in them. 
 
 "I'm so glad you have come. Yes; I was grow- 
 ing anxious. Are you not very tired?" she asked, 
 moving her satchel that he might sit down. 
 
 " No ; I stopped back by the engine where they 
 are at work, and took breath and got warm. But 
 how is your head ? " 
 
 "It is better, I think," she said, trying, at least, 
 to believe that it was. 
 
 " I hope I have brought you something you can 
 eat ; but first I want you to drink some of this, as I 
 think it will help your head," the doctor said, pro- 
 ceeding to pour from a can in his hand a mug full 
 of hot tea, telling Jessie in the meantime how the 
 engineer had heated it for him. 
 
 Certainly there were none of the evidences of 
 fatigue about the doctor for which she had been 
 prepared ; for he stood before her now as fresh 
 and smiling as if he had not just accomplished a 
 feat which would have taxed the strength and en-
 
 2/4 WESTWARD BOUND. 
 
 durance of a much sturdier man. But if Jessie 
 had seen him half an hour before, when he reached 
 the engine, and was helped on board by some of 
 the workmen, she would scarcely have been pre- 
 pared for so speedy a recovery. 
 
 Jessie thanked the doctor, and sat up and drank 
 her tea like a docile child. 
 
 " You are a very good girl," was the doctor's 
 smiling comment as he took from her hand the 
 empty mug. " Presently you shall have the rest 
 of your dinner." 
 
 As he spoke, the porter entered with a dish of 
 hot soup, and while she was eating this, the doc- 
 tor entertained her with an account of his advent- 
 ures since leaving the train. 
 
 The soup which had been served with the doc- 
 tor's own dinner, he had been sure would not tempt 
 Jessie's appetite, but he did not tell her that he 
 had assisted in making the savory dish he had 
 brought her. 
 
 The success of his efforts afforded him no small 
 degree of satisfaction, for Jessie praised the soup, 
 and ate it with a relish which was the strongest 
 argument in its favor. 
 
 In keeping this from her the doctor did not sus-
 
 WESTWARD BOUND. 2/5 
 
 pect, however, that she was returning him his own 
 coin ; for Jessie had begged Mrs. Mitchel to say 
 nothing of her fainting fit, and he was never any 
 wiser in regard to what had happened in his ab- 
 sence, than was she in the matter of his culinary 
 ability. 
 
 But if Jessie had ever seemed fair and lovable 
 to the doctor it was that afternoon, when he had 
 found her watching for his return ; and a glad light 
 in her eyes had told him how welcome to her was 
 his sudden appearance. Her bright hair had be- 
 come loosened from her comb, and lay in wavy 
 luxuriance about her shoulders, while the graceful, 
 easy negligence of her dress seemed to bring her 
 nearer to him than ever before. In her manner, 
 too, there was a subtle change as charming as it 
 was indefinable. He felt himself no longer held at 
 a distance. A soft, winning grace, born of a grate- 
 ful appreciation of his kindness, had taken the 
 place of the quiet dignity which had been a blend- 
 ing of indifference and hauteur. 
 
 Somewhere about midnight our snow-bound 
 travellers were roused by the sudden jar which 
 united the train with the engine, and a little later 
 they were once more in motion, and on their way.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 SURRENDER. 
 
 I HAD no idea we were en route for Mont 
 Blanc," was Doctor Forney's thoroughly dis- 
 mayed ejaculation when morning dawned upon 
 them. 
 
 He had known for some time that they were 
 standing still ; but it had taken daylight to reveal 
 the fact that both engines were buried in a moun- 
 tainous drift which even steam had proved inade- 
 quate to force a way through. 
 
 On learning how matters stood, it was evident 
 to everyone that there was nothing to do but 
 abandon the train, and try and reach the small 
 German settlement thought to be about two miles 
 distant. Since their last start, Jessie had slept 
 heavily ; even the commotion caused by their sud- 
 denly coming to a stand-still had failed to arouse 
 her. 
 
 But she must be awakened now, for the passen- 
 gers were already making preparations to leave the 
 
 276
 
 SURRENDER. 2/7 
 
 car, and Mrs. Mitchel had just reminded the doc- 
 tor that Miss Norberry would not be ready, and 
 prepared to rouse her. 
 
 This the doctor would not allow her to do ; for 
 though he dreaded to announce to Jessie their 
 situation, he would not depute it to another. But 
 how could he propose to this girl that she should 
 walk two miles over an unbroken prairie, and in 
 such weather too ? What would he not have 
 given to save her this ordeal. He feared already 
 that her strength had been taxed to its utmost 
 limits. How would she bear the exposure, or the 
 toilsome walk that must lie before them, in the 
 teeth of a keen northwest wind, and possibly 
 through drifts which would require all a man's 
 strength to surmount ? 
 
 Even for himself it would be an ordeal of suffer- 
 ing, but for this delicate girl who had never known 
 exposure of any kind, it might be death. 
 
 For a moment the wild idea seized him not to al- 
 low Jessie to leave the train. If the distance to the 
 settlement was not more than a few miles, supplies 
 of food might be sent for. Had cold and hunger 
 been the only foes to face, this might not have 
 been impracticable ; but attacks from Indians were
 
 2/8 SURRENDER. 
 
 not unknown in that part of the country, and if 
 they escaped this danger there were still others in 
 the shape of wild beasts. 
 
 No ; if the rest left the train they must do so 
 too. It was not necessary to waken Jessie, for at 
 this moment she opened her eyes, and seeing all the 
 passengers moving, asked if they had reached Sed- 
 ley. 
 
 Then it was that the doctor announced to her 
 the necessity for their leaving the train, expressing 
 the concern he felt lest she would not be able to 
 bear the exposure. 
 
 " I don't know how you will manage, Miss Jes- 
 sie, but there seems nothing else to be done. I 
 feel as if it is almost suicidal for you to attempt it, 
 though you are likely to perish if you stay here." 
 
 Jessie saw something of the struggle which this 
 had cost the doctor, and she said quite cheerfully : 
 
 " Oh ! you must not fear for me. I shall no doubt 
 get along as well as the rest. But if we are to 
 walk the remainder of the way to Kansas, we had 
 best be about it," she added, commencing at once 
 to make herself ready. 
 
 She insisted upon Mrs. Mitchel's taking one of 
 her wraps, and the other she allowed the doctor to
 
 SURRENDER. 2/9 
 
 wind about her head and shoulders' in the way he 
 proposed. 
 
 " You have no idea how bleak the wind is on the 
 prairies," he said solicitously. " You will need all 
 the protection possible against it." And Jessie did 
 not demur at any arrangement of her dress which 
 he saw fit to make, though she laughingly com- 
 pared herself to a mummy when he considered her 
 ready for a start. 
 
 Their large lunch basket was left in the car, as 
 well as the doctor's valise ; but Jessie's satchel he 
 insisted upon taking, and strapped it about his 
 waist in order that both hands might be free. 
 
 " Missouri has certainly proved a most unhospit- 
 able State to us, but it did not occur to me that we 
 should be held here as hostages of the summer ; for 
 it will surely take July and August to melt these 
 banks of snow," Jessie said on leaving the car, 
 assuming a gayety she was far from feeling. 
 
 The doctor's party for a time kept up with the 
 others, but finally they began to fall behind, and 
 ere long were far in the rear. 
 
 The crust upon which they had counted to bear 
 their weight was not even. In places it would do 
 so for some distance, and then for a time their
 
 28O SURRENDER. 
 
 progress would be by wallowing rather than walk- 
 ing. 
 
 Mrs. Mitchel, though advanced in years, had the 
 endurance which a working life had given her, and 
 she now proved herself equal to waging quite a 
 battle with wind and snow, bearing the struggle 
 much better than might have been supposed. But 
 it was soon evident that Jessie's strength was fail- 
 ing. More than once she must have yielded to her 
 desire for rest which was almost overpowering, had 
 not a strong arm closed about her with a vise-like 
 pressure, bearing her along and imparting strength 
 and courage. 
 
 " I think we must have wandered into the Arctic 
 regions, and shall never see anything but snow 
 again," she said plaintively when their struggle had 
 been prolonged for more than two hours, and only 
 a limitless expanse of snow was to be seen. 
 
 " No ; we are still in inhospitable Missouri," re- 
 turned the doctor, " but if we do not slump through 
 into China I think we must soon get out of it." 
 
 Few words were spoken, for breath was of too 
 much value to waste it in speech ; but that the 
 doctor's thoughts were constantly with her, Jessie 
 found the arm about her waist a convincing proof.
 
 SURRENDER. 28 1 
 
 More than once her touching appeal that he 
 would let her rest only for a moment wrung his 
 heart ; but he knew that her life depended upon 
 her keeping in motion. Were she allowed to rest, 
 she would not be able to go on. 
 
 " You will not fail now when you have come so 
 far. Keep up a little longer; we must soon see 
 the settlement. You have done bravely, and it 
 can't be much farther." These and like words of 
 encouragement fell from the doctor's lips when- 
 ever Jessie's courage was on the point of giving 
 out. 
 
 But her form leaned more and more heavily 
 upon him, and he would not have been surprised 
 at any moment had she sunk limp and lifeless in 
 the snow at his feet. 
 
 It was something like three hours since they 
 had left the train when they espied in the dis- 
 tance what they thought must be the settlement 
 for which they had started ; and presently a shout 
 from the more forward ones of the party announced 
 this fact. * 
 
 As they approached, some eight or ten strag- 
 gling log cabins could be plainly distinguished, 
 but it was the nearest one for which the whole
 
 282 SURRENDER. 
 
 party started ; and when the doctor came up the 
 house was already full. 
 
 Good Frau Steinhauser was doing her best to 
 make her guests comfortable ; but with the most 
 hospitable intent she could not take care of so 
 many, and it was evident that the greater number 
 could only find her house a temporary shelter. 
 
 On seeing the doctor and his party enter, the 
 good woman cried out : 
 
 " Es gibt andere Hauser in der Stadt. Meins ist 
 nicht das Einzige. Ich habe keinen Platz fur so 
 viele Leute ;" and then her eye falling on Jessie 
 she added : " Ihre Frau sieht sehr krank aus. Es 
 thut mir Leid." 
 
 With much gesticulation the good woman com- 
 municated the fact that her neighbor Stupp's house 
 just beyond was empty, and that they would find 
 fuel and other things to make them comfortable. 
 
 While speaking Frau Steinhauser reached the 
 doctor a key which she had taken from a nail. 
 This would admit him to the shelter she had pro- 
 posed. 
 
 By this time, however, Jessie's exhausted condi- 
 tion had excited general sympathy ; and a move- 
 ment was made that she might come nearer to
 
 SURRENDER. 283 
 
 the fire. But she had heard the rude laugh which 
 greeted Frau Steinhauser's mistake, and any place 
 in which she could escape these people would have 
 seemed to her a desirable refuge. 
 
 " Let us go there. We shall at least be by our- 
 selves," she said in an undertone to the doctor, 
 and he hesitated no longer. 
 
 The owner of this cabin, Jacob Stupp, had buried 
 his wife the week before, and finding the loneli- 
 ness of the place unbearable afterward, he had 
 gone to town leaving the care of his premises to 
 his neighbor Steinhauser. 
 
 In recommending it to the doctor and his party 
 the good Frau had said nothing of the circum- 
 stance which had placed it at his disposal ; for so 
 great was the fear of the fever in that region that 
 the simple people thereabouts would nearly as soon 
 have gone shelterless as enter where this disease 
 had lately reigned. But had she told him the story 
 of her neighbor's death, the doctor would have done 
 just as he did, since no other course was open to 
 him. They could not stay where they were, and 
 there was no certainty of faring better had Jessie 
 been able to go farther. 
 
 Jacob Stupp's cabin contained but one room,
 
 284 SURRENDER. 
 
 and its only furniture was a cook-stove, a deal 
 table, two flag-bottomed chairs, an old-fashioned 
 case of drawers, and a cottage bedstead, but a pal- 
 ace would not have been more welcome to the lit- 
 tle party who had at once taken possession. 
 
 Their rude quarters had soon put on something 
 of an air of comfort, for the doctor found plenty of 
 fuel on the premises, and a roaring fire was ere 
 long sending its warmth into every corner of the 
 cabin. 
 
 In rummaging about to find dry clothing for Jes- 
 sie and herself, Mrs. Mitchel had come upon some 
 clean bedding put carefully away, and the good 
 woman was not slow to utilize it. She was no 
 sooner warm than she seemed to forget her fa- 
 tigue, and at once went to work to remove Jessie's 
 boots and stockings, and to rub some warmth and 
 life into the girl who, on entering the cabin, had 
 dropped into a chair, from which she had not since 
 moved. For Jessie allowed the woman to take 
 off her wet clothing, and wrap her in Frau Stupp's 
 clean blankets, as passively as a child. 
 
 Meanwhile from the cabin's stores the doctor 
 had produced some tea, which he soon had sim- 
 mering on the fire.
 
 SURRENDER. 285 
 
 " I don't suppose you will find it the most pala- 
 table cup of tea you ever drank, but it is hot, 
 which is the essential thing just now," he said, 
 pouring Jessie a cupful of the decoction he had 
 been making. 
 
 Mrs. Mitchel had just prevailed upon her to lie 
 down, but she sat up and drank the tea, since the 
 doctor wished it, though she would rather not have 
 been disturbed. 
 
 " It is quite good. Herr Stupp must be some- 
 thing of an epicure," she said, with a dreary at- 
 tempt at a smile, as she passed him back the cup. 
 
 " We shall not starve if the snow embargo is 
 not lifted at once, for if it comes to the worst we 
 can stay the pangs of hunger with black bread 
 and sauerkraut," said the doctor, who had been 
 investigating the larder ; but he decided not to 
 disturb these delicacies if other food was to be ob- 
 tained in the settlement. 
 
 While he was putting on his coat to go out in 
 quest of edibles, Mrs. Mitchel happened to go to 
 the closet for something, when her face at once 
 expressed a strong disapprobation of the premises. 
 Had those shelves been filled with the most de- 
 licious of dainties, they would hardly have tempted
 
 286 SURRENDER. 
 
 her appetite after the odor which had met her nos- 
 trils. She said nothing, but, looking up, she saw 
 that the doctor was convulsed with merriment. 
 
 " I knew it was there, for it made itself evident 
 when I was hunting for the tea," he said, produc- 
 ing from its receptacle a piece of Limburgher 
 cheese. " It hardly seems the thing to take pos- 
 session of friend Stupp's house and throw away 
 his stores, but I think I will do so in this case," 
 he said, and presently this unsavory morsel had 
 made its exit from the cabin. 
 
 " Why, you look as if you were in a high fever. 
 Do you feel sick ? " Mrs. Mitchel asked anxiously. 
 She was in the act of putting some dishes on the 
 table, thinking to forward the meal which the doc- 
 tor had gone out to procure ; but she came at once 
 to Jessie's bedside and began testing the tempera- 
 ture of her body. 
 
 " I am not sick, but I never was quite so tired 
 in my life," was the girl's languid response. 
 
 "I don't like your having so much color. When 
 we came in you were as white as that sheet," 
 returned Mrs. Mitchel, examining her critically. 
 
 " Do not fear that I shall be ill. I am very 
 healthy. If I am flushed it is from fatigue, and
 
 SURRENDER. 28/ 
 
 you need not be alarmed if I am a little feverish ; 
 it is only the reaction from the cold." Jessie 
 spoke as if it was an effort to do so, but hearing 
 a step outside the door, she said earnestly : " Pray 
 do not show the doctor that you are anxious about 
 me. He has trouble enough now." 
 
 A moment later the doctor entered, having can- 
 vassed the settlement and procured bread, butter, 
 eggs, sugar, and a few potatoes. 
 
 " Now we will soon have some dinner," he said, 
 looking with satisfaction upon Mrs. Mitchel's prep- 
 arations ; but his countenance quickly changed as 
 he noted the flushed face upon the pillow. 
 
 " How are you feeling now ? " he asked. 
 
 " Thoroughly lazy, as you see," was her reply ; 
 but finding his fears were not disarmed, she added, 
 " I shall be all right before long ; rest is all I need. 
 If you and Mrs. Mitchel will do the cooking to-day, 
 I'll change places with you to-morrow." 
 
 " Are you sure your head does not ache, and that 
 you are not suffering in any way ? " he asked, lay- 
 ing his hand on her forehead as he spoke. 
 
 For a moment she allowed it to rest there, and 
 then with a caressing gesture, she clasped it in 
 both her own.
 
 288 SURRENDER. 
 
 " If you begin to fancy me ill, I shall feel 
 obliged to get up and prove to you that I am not," 
 she said, attempting to rise. 
 
 But this the doctor would not allow her to do, 
 and she had lain passively back among the pillows, 
 as if resigned to the situation. 
 
 But as night came on it was evident that she 
 was indeed ill ; nor could she conceal from her 
 watchful attendants that she was suffering. Ever 
 since her effort to sit up and eat a bit of the egg 
 which the doctor had himself cooked and urged 
 upon her, she had seemed to grow worse. 
 
 Early in the evening the doctor had gone to try 
 and find in the settlement some remedy to keep 
 down the fever which he feared would otherwise 
 become settled upon her ; and he had been fort- 
 unate enough to obtain one with the workings of 
 which he was familiar. Though no one had offered 
 to go to the sick girl, the doctor found plenty 
 ready to offer advice ; and in some cases it com- 
 mended itself to his judgment, particularly when 
 one kindly old soul sent a sedative for a cooling 
 wash. 
 
 This Mrs. Mitchel used thoroughly, and it 
 proved very grateful to the sufferer who roused
 
 SURRENDER. 289 
 
 enough to realize what was being done for her, and 
 then dropped off again into unconsciousness. 
 
 All that night Doctor Forney sat by her bedside 
 administering at regular intervals the remedy which 
 he had never known to fail in breaking up a fever, 
 every little while renewing the wet cloth upon her 
 head. 
 
 He insisted upon doing this himself, for early in 
 the evening he had seen that Mrs. Mitchel would 
 not be equal to it. The poor woman was com- 
 pletely worn out with the fatigue of the day, and 
 before midnight was sleeping soundly on the cot, 
 which 'the doctor had improvised by turning the 
 large woodbox over on its side, and piecing this 
 out with the table. It was better than sleeping on 
 the floor where he had feared she would take cold, 
 and proved as restful a couch as perhaps she had 
 ever enjoyed, since there is nothing like fatigue to 
 sweeten rest. 
 
 The doctor had assured Mrs. Mitchel that he 
 would get all the sleep he needed, but if he had 
 expected to do so he signally failed. 
 
 The hard, straight-backed chair in which his 
 vigil was spent did not invite slumber ; but the 
 anxiety he was feeling would probably have ban-
 
 290 SURRENDER. 
 
 ished sleep had the conditions been much more 
 favorable. 
 
 More than once as the hours went on he was 
 startled to the very depths of his nature by Jessie's 
 incoherent talk. Had she indeed grown to care 
 for him as her words seemed to imply ? At mo- 
 ments he believed this was so, and then Reason 
 would show him the fallacy of building upon the 
 utterances of delirium. Running along with the 
 involuntary confession of a love which she had 
 heretofore well concealed if he were the object, was 
 the fancy that this journey had been undertaken 
 for his sake. 
 
 This complete reversal of the true state of the 
 case was perhaps the method of madness, since 
 there is no reason in unreason ; and the doctor 
 found the superstructure of his hopes suddenly 
 swept away. 
 
 Daylight was coming in the eastern sky when 
 the sick girl finally sunk into a quiet slumber, and 
 now the doctor braced his chair back against the 
 wall, and in this position gained a comfortable nap. 
 
 With morning, Jessie's symptoms were more 
 favorable, and though weak and listless to the last 
 degree, all danger of fever was evidently averted.
 
 SURRENDER. 2QI 
 
 And now those of her friends who knew her 
 best would hardly have recognized her in the re- 
 action that at once set in. She who up to this 
 time had made the best of all her discomforts 
 became suddenly unreconciled to the situation. 
 
 She could not stay here. She must get away, 
 and there certainly was some means by which they 
 might do so. When finally made to understand 
 that this was impossible, and that they might be 
 detained here a week, she had broken down and 
 cried. 
 
 Then it was that the doctor had tried to comfort 
 her much as he would a grieved child. 
 
 This state of things continued for three days, 
 Jessie chafing continually at their detention, and 
 insisting that she was able to travel, though scarcely 
 having strength to sit up. 
 
 The doctor's patience seemed infinite, and finally 
 won the recognition it deserved. 
 
 " I believe you are the kindest and best man that 
 ever lived, and I am the most selfish and hateful 
 of women," she said at last, in a burst of generous 
 frankness. " How can you have been so patient 
 with me all along when I have been so selfish and 
 ungrateful ? "
 
 SURRENDER. 
 
 " You are neither the one nor the other. At 
 least, if you are I have failed to see it ; perhaps 
 because I love you." 
 
 This last admission had slipped from the doc- 
 tor's tongue involuntarily. He had never meant 
 to speak to Jessie of his love again, since it could 
 only annoy her to do so ; but the words had 
 sprung from his heart, and now they could not be 
 unsaid, though they were no sooner uttered than 
 regretted. 
 
 " I can hardly credit your loving me, for I am 
 so unworthy," Jessie said, with a sweet humility, 
 " but since you say so, I must believe you, and any 
 woman who could persistently decline a love which 
 so ennobled and honored her must be devoid of 
 every womanly feeling." 
 
 The doctor knew that a pair of limpid eyes were 
 bent upon him, but for a moment he could not 
 meet them. Had she meant what her word seemed 
 to imply ? 
 
 "Am I to understand that you accept the love I 
 offered you two years ago ? " he asked, not a mus- 
 cle of his face changing, so great was the self-con- 
 trol he was exercising. 
 
 " Not only that I accept it, but that I shall hence-
 
 SURRENDER. 2Q3 
 
 forth wear it as my woman's crown. I did not 
 know you two years ago ; and, in fact, I do not 
 believe I do now, for your goodness is a constant 
 surprise to me," was Jessie's impassioned response. 
 
 " And you promise to be my wife ? " The doctor 
 had taken both her hands in his own as he asked 
 this question, regardless of the fact that they were 
 not alone. 
 
 " I promise to be your wife, and to be both 
 proud and happy in the love which I never till 
 now appreciated," Jessie said with gentle earnest- 
 ness. 
 
 " God bless you ! So I have won you at last, 
 my treasure," said the doctor, with vehement pas- 
 sion as he gathered her to his breast. It mattered 
 not at this moment that a third party was a wit- 
 ness of his joy, for his happiness had come too un- 
 expectedly to be received with calmness. A man 
 less open and generous in his nature might have 
 veiled his feelings more, but looking up and meet- 
 ing Mrs. Mitchel's eye, he asked if he were not 
 the most fortunate of men, adding, with reverent 
 tenderness : " Jessie is mine. The Western prai- 
 rie has given me what I most desired in the world ; 
 and what I might have sued for in vain at home
 
 294 SURRENDER. 
 
 this dear girl. Wish me joy, Mrs. Mitchel, in 
 gaining the greatest happiness of my life." 
 
 "I do wish you joy with all my heart," returned 
 the good woman earnestly ; " for I believe you are 
 worthy of Miss Jessie, and you will agree with me, 
 that is giving you great praise. I an not surprised 
 at such a sequel to your adventure," she continued, 
 "for Miss Jessie has told me something of the 
 errand which took her out here. She would cer- 
 tainly not be the girl I take her for, if she did not 
 appreciate your kindness and devotion. What 
 either she or myself would have done without such 
 a friend, God only knows. Now, everything will 
 come out as it should : you will marry her and 
 make her happy, for she will realize more and more 
 that in her husband she has one of the best men 
 in the world." 
 
 " Thank you, dear Mrs. Mitchel ; we shall not 
 soon forget how kind a friend we have found in 
 you," returned Jessie, tears standing in her eyes. 
 
 The good woman had now come over to them, 
 and, taking a hand of each, wished them many 
 years of happiness together here, and at the end 
 of life's journey an abundant entrance into their 
 heavenly home.
 
 SURRENDER. 295 
 
 It was five days since they had taken possession 
 of Jacob Stupp's cabin, when the doctor came in 
 one morning from a prospecting tour, and said that 
 the road had at last been broken through, and 
 they would be able to proceed on their journey. 
 
 " Unless you desire to prolong your stay here 
 we had best be ready in an hour's time," he said, 
 adding with pleasant irony, " Perhaps five days' 
 sojourn in these regions has made you so much in 
 love with it you do not care to leave so suddenly." 
 
 " Oh ! I think we can tear ourselves away, and 
 as our wardrobe is contained in a hand-bag it will 
 not require a great deal of time for packing," said 
 Jessie, who added with a spice of her old gayety, 
 " The West is no doubt a fine country, but New 
 England is quite good enough for me." 
 
 In returning the key to Frau Steinhauser, the 
 doctor did not forget to give that good woman an 
 envelope addressed to Jacob Stupp, in which was 
 a handsome remuneration for the use of his house. 
 
 Only those who have been snowbound on our 
 Western prairies can fully appreciate the satisfac- 
 tion which thrilled the hearts of our travellers 
 when the iron horse was once more bearing them 
 onward.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 READING THE LETTER. 
 
 IT was New Year's eve, and the night of the 
 weekly prayer meeting, and Newbury was all 
 agog. Not for either of the reasons mentioned, 
 however, was the town in its present state of 
 excitement. The day before the minister's niece 
 had reached home, and curiosity to see her, and 
 learn why her mysterious journey had been taken 
 would have been sufficient to create an unusual in- 
 terest on this occasion, but there was still another 
 reason for bringing the people out to-night. 
 
 It had been whispered in the town that a strange 
 gentleman who had come with Jessie from the 
 West, and who was now staying as a guest at the 
 parsonage, would be at the meeting that evening, 
 and make an important communication to the peo- 
 ple of Newbury. 
 
 No one outside of her uncle's immediate family 
 had seen Jessie since her return, and no particulars 
 had been learned in the town respecting the jour- 
 
 296
 
 READING THE LETTER. 2Q/ 
 
 ney which had resulted in so much anxiety to her 
 friends. 
 
 For after Jessie and the doctor left St. Louis 
 nothing more was heard from them for ten days. 
 That they must have encountered the great storm 
 which had swept the whole Northwest was known ; 
 but as telegraph lines were down all through that 
 section of the country, the extent of its ravages 
 could not be learned. 
 
 That the train which Jessie and the doctor had 
 taken was blocked somewhere on the prairies, was 
 more than likely, and that privation and .exposure 
 was being endured by all on board, was greatly 
 feared. 
 
 Miss Norberry had received a letter from her 
 niece, written at Arlington, in which Jessie had in- 
 formed her that she was going to Kansas on busi- 
 ness which she had promised Doctor Carrol to 
 attend to on his death, but begged her aunt to say 
 nothing of her errand West till her return. 
 
 But when reports of the storm reached her 
 friends, and they could learn nothing of her fate, 
 the minister had gone to Milton Carrol and told 
 him the purport of Jessie's letter. 
 
 It is needless to say that the doctor's son was
 
 298 READING THE LETTER. 
 
 staggered at this announcement, and insisted there 
 must be some mistake, as he was sure that his 
 father had no business relations with any one in 
 that part of the country. 
 
 But Mr. Norberry produced the letter, and there 
 it stood in Jessie's own handwriting : " I am going 
 to Kansas on business which I promised Doctor 
 Carrol to attend to on his death. I cannot tell 
 you more at present, for I feel it almost a breech 
 of confidence to the dead, that I have made even 
 this explanation before I have carried out my 
 trust." 
 
 This was Milton Carrol's first intimation that 
 there had been any private communication between 
 his father and Jessie. That his father had a 
 peculiar regard for her he was aware, and now it 
 seemed he had trusted her where he had not his 
 own family. 
 
 If Milton Carrol could have left the matter here 
 it would have been better for his peace of mind, 
 but as the days went on he was haunted by 
 the fear that the errand which had, perhaps, sent 
 Jessie Norberry to her death, was but a freak of 
 insanity. He knew of no one in the far West with 
 whom his father was even acquainted, and that he
 
 READING THE LETTER. 299 
 
 could have had business relations with any one 
 there without his knowledge, seemed impossible. 
 
 Milton Carrol stood by the minister's side in 
 the Boston office when the welcome dispatch came 
 over the wires, informing them that Jessie was 
 well, and on her way home. Had this message 
 been of a less happy character, the doctor's son 
 would never have shown his head in Newbury 
 again. He had been a desperate man when he 
 entered that office ; for the five sleepless nights in 
 which he had been haunting the place had well 
 nigh made himself as insane as he feared his father 
 had been when he sent Jessie on this errand. 
 
 When he grasped John Norberry's hand with a 
 muttered "Thank God, she is safe ! " the minister 
 little suspected the burden of fear and anxiety 
 which had been lifted from his heart. 
 
 Had it been otherwise with Jessie Norberry, he 
 knew that another foul charge would have been 
 brought against his dead father's name, and this 
 time not without some shadow of reason ; but he 
 had resolved never to hear it. He would have put 
 the ocean between himself and the mocking 
 tongues which would have insulted his grief. On 
 the other, side of the Atlantic he would make a
 
 3OO READING THE LETTER. 
 
 home for his mother and himself, where the name 
 of the dead would not be aspersed in their hearing. 
 But, happily, this ordeal was not before him. 
 
 Jessie had reached her destination so completely 
 worn out by the discomforts of the journey, that 
 had an immediate return been practicable, neither 
 Doctor Forney nor Doctor Landford would have 
 allowed it. But the roads even then were not in a 
 condition to warrant a train going directly through, 
 so for several days our travellers were the guests 
 of the man whom it had been their mission to find 
 in Kansas, and who entertained them with true 
 Western hospitality. 
 
 This was now a thing of the past, and Jessie 
 was home again ; but no one, with the exception 
 of her uncle's immediate family, yet knew why 
 she had taken this journey. Would she be at the 
 meeting ? or was she too much disabled still from 
 the hardships she had so lately endured to make 
 her appearance in public ? 
 
 Speculation was rife over this matter, for it was 
 known that only that afternoon friends calling to 
 see her had failed to do so. 
 
 But it was not on account of any physical disa- 
 bility that Jessie had denied herself to visitors,
 
 READING THE LETTER. 3OI 
 
 for she was in her accustomed seat when the meet- 
 ing opened. 
 
 The minister and a stranger had entered the 
 vestry together, followed by Mrs. Norberry and 
 her niece. There had never been a larger attend- 
 ance, for every seat was filled ; and there were 
 many in the audience who were seldom seen at a 
 vestry or any other meeting. 
 
 The usual service of prayer, Scripture reading 
 and singing were gone through with, and then 
 the minister announced that the lesson for the 
 evening would be found in The Epistle pf Paul to 
 the Ephesians, fourth chapter, thirty-first and 
 thirty-second verses : 
 
 " Let all bitterness and wrath, and anger, and 
 clamour, and evil-speaking be put away from you, 
 with all malice : 
 
 " And be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, 
 forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's 
 sake hath forgiven you." 
 
 The minister said there was as much need in 
 our day to remember this injunction as when Paul 
 gave it to the early church ; that itching ears and 
 evil speaking was a sin in the church in all times. 
 If men, and women too, were less ready to hear
 
 3O2 READING THE LETTER. 
 
 and repeat what was often but the promptings of 
 malice, the testimony of the recording-angel would 
 bear less heavily against many a name. The Church 
 would stand appalled, he thought, could it know 
 how many reputations were pulled down and laid 
 in the dust, lives shadowed, and their good turned 
 to evil from this cause alone. 
 
 The apostle's charge seemed to be sadly disre- 
 garded by many who thought themselves Christian 
 men and women. If our sins were forgiven as we 
 forgive others, where should we stand in that great 
 day when a wise and discriminating Judge should 
 apportion us our deserts ? 
 
 John Norberry closed the lesson by making a 
 strong appeal to his people that they should put 
 away from them everything that would hinder their 
 growth in the Christian life, or cause them to be 
 stumbling-blocks in the way of others. 
 
 Then, instead of dismissing the meeting, he 
 went on to say, " Friends, I have shortened the 
 exercises this evening in order that you may hear 
 from a gentleman present who has something to 
 say to you," introducing Doctor Landford, from 
 
 Kansas. 
 
 This gentleman then rose and said : " Friends,
 
 READING THE LETTER. 303 
 
 I have come here from my home in the far West 
 to vindicate the fair name of an old friend who has 
 been greatly misapprehended by you. Doctor Mel- 
 ville Carrol was for many years associated with me 
 in my profession, and I was as familiar with his 
 public and private life as it was possible for any 
 one to be outside of his family. A better man or 
 truer Christian I have never met. But I have 
 learned within the last few weeks that he accused 
 himself of a crime, with what foundation I leave 
 you to judge when I shall have finished. 
 
 " I hold in my hand a letter which he wrote me 
 some two years before his death, making; as he 
 says, a confession. For some reason, which I do 
 not understand, but which probably had its origin 
 in a disordered mind, he did not wish me to re- 
 ceive it while he was living. But he left it in the 
 hands of a friend in whom he had all confidence, 
 and who promised to deliver it to me immediately 
 upon his death. 
 
 " How faithfully that friend kept her promise you 
 will see when I tell you that she travelled over six- 
 teen hundred miles to put this letter in my hand, 
 encountering one of the severest storms which has 
 visited the Northwest for many years ; and in con-
 
 304 READING THE LETTER. 
 
 sequence of which she endured hardships and pri- 
 vations almost unparalleled. 
 
 "Now," continued Doctor Landford, "I will 
 read my old friend's letter to you, that you may 
 know just what the charge is that he makes against 
 himself : 
 
 DEAR OLD FRIEND : When your eye falls upon these lines, I 
 shall have rendered up my account at the bar of a just and merci- 
 ful God. But I cannot go hence without making a confession 
 which I hope may ease my burdened conscience. You will re- 
 member Mrs. Winter's case. That unfortunate lady died by my 
 hand, and not of the disease which her friends supposed. 
 
 You will recall our consultation over her case some weeks 
 prior to her death, and the fact that the origin of her trouble 
 baffled us ; since we were then unable to satisfactorily account for 
 the attacks of distress from which she so frequently suffered. 
 
 I was called to her about ten o'clock on the night of her death, 
 and found her in great pain. I administered, as I supposed, a 
 remedy, which had in the past sometimes relieved her ; and soon 
 afterward she became easy, and I took my leave. 
 
 But what was my surprise and consternation on reaching home 
 to find on my study table the vial which I had laid out to take 
 with me that evening the quieting drug which I supposed I had 
 just administered. 
 
 Instead I had given Mrs. W. five drops of a weak solution of 
 cyanide of potash, which happened to be in my pocket at the 
 time, I having put it there for a laboratory experiment. 
 
 I had no sooner realized my terrible mistake than word was
 
 READING THE LETTER. 305 
 
 brought me of this lady's death. The drug had done its fatal 
 work quickly. 
 
 I need not tell you that I passed a sleepless night, and was illy 
 prepared for the post-mortem examination on the following day. 
 
 You will remember the attack of faintness to which I suc- 
 cumbed on that occasion, and which had the effect of removing 
 me from my victim whom I never afterward saw, as an illness of 
 weeks intervened before I got about again. 
 
 Doubtless, with other friends, you supposed me prostrated by 
 over work and anxiety as I learned the verdict which you ren- 
 dered on that occasion ; but whether you had any suspicion of the 
 truth or not I do not know, as you never mentioned the matter to 
 me. But I have sometimes thought you were aware of my guilty 
 secret, for unhappily I kept my own counsel at the time and since. 
 
 Consideration for the family and friends who had no suspicion 
 of my error caused me at first to keep silence ; and later the fact 
 that the dear ones of my own household must suffer by such an 
 avowal shut my lips. 
 
 Mrs. Winter was my last patient, for her death so preyed upon 
 my mind as to unfit me for the duties of my profession ; and I at 
 once gave up my practice and went abroad. 
 
 But in changing the place I did not change the pain, for I felt 
 the brand of murderer was upon me, and nowhere could I forget 
 my horrible secret. 
 
 On my return I moved to this quiet town, but even here the 
 curse of my unacknowledged sin has followed me, and for years 
 I have not known any peace of mind. 
 
 I have made this confession hoping to ease my burden which at 
 times is greater than I can bear ; and I trust that He who knows 
 the secrets of all hearts will accept this tardy avowal, and absolve 
 me of my sin 1 MELVILLE P. CARROL.
 
 3C)6 READING THE LETTER. 
 
 As Doctor Landford finished reading this letter 
 there was scarcely a dry eye in the audience, and 
 more than one sob was distinctly audible. 
 
 After a moment he went on : " Is there any one 
 among us willing to take the responsibility of judg- 
 ing a fellow-creature who suffered so long and 
 deeply for a mistake to which any one might have 
 been liable ? I think there is not a person in this 
 audience but must feel that if Doctor Carrol was 
 responsible for this lady's death, as he affirms, his 
 after life was an atonement so far as a godly sor- 
 row and repentance could make it so. But now 
 I want to say that I am by no means sure that my 
 poor friend was responsible in this case. For after 
 I became satisfied that Mrs. Winter's death was 
 not caused by cancer of the stomach, as her friends 
 supposed, I made a farther autopsy, and the notes 
 which I took at the time would bear out my opin- 
 ion that death really resulted from organic heart 
 disease complicated with congestion of the lungs. 
 
 " Had Doctor Carrol not been prostrated ere the 
 autopsy was finished he might have been saved 
 the years of sorrow and remorse which at times 
 unsettled his reason. 
 
 "I think," Doctor Landford continued, "that
 
 READING THE LETTER. 307 
 
 farther confirmation than my word will not be nec- 
 essary, but I will say that I still have in my posses- 
 sion those notes, which are at the disposal of any 
 one minded to see them." 
 
 As Doctor Landford sat down the minister arose, 
 and proposed that a vote of thanks should be ten- 
 dered the doctor for this service to their late fel- 
 low-townsman, and that resolutions of sympathy 
 and respect should be sent to the family of Doc- 
 tor Carrol, whose memory would always be hon- 
 ored among them. 
 
 It is perhaps needless to add that a unanimous 
 vote was at once taken in favor of both propositions.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 DOCTOR FORNEY AT HOME. 
 
 WHY, Stephen Forney ! Where in the world 
 have you been?" This was the saluta- 
 tion the doctor met from his sister on his return 
 from the Western trip which had taken him away 
 so suddenly more than three weeks before. 
 
 Miss Forney had received no explanation of her 
 brother's abrupt departure other than the brief 
 telegram which had stated that he was called sud- 
 denly away from the city on business ; and after- 
 ward a line which he had written at Rochester, 
 saying he was on his way West, and she need not 
 look for him under ten days. 
 
 " Did you not receive my telegram and letter ? " 
 he asked, with what his sister felt was exasperating 
 coolness. 
 
 " Yes ; but what did they tell me ? They only 
 said you were going ; not why. You never were 
 mysterious before, Stephen. Are you married ? " 
 
 " Whatever made you think of that ? Do you 
 308
 
 DOCTOR FORNEY AT HOME. 309 
 
 suppose if I were married that I should come home 
 without my wife ? What put that into your head, 
 Harriet ? " 
 
 " You never went off in such a way before, and I 
 know you did not go alone, for Mr. Kelsey saw you 
 in the depot the night you left." Miss Forney 
 was growing nervous under her brother's eye. " Of 
 course if you had come home in a few days, as you 
 said what was I to think ? " 
 
 " Did Mr. Kelsey tell you who was with me ?" 
 the doctor asked with an amused smile. 
 
 " No, he did not know the lady ; but from his 
 description I judged it must be Miss Jessie. I did 
 not choose that he should think you had left me 
 entirely in the dark as to your movements, and so 
 I answered as if I knew all about it : 
 
 " O, yes ! Miss Jessie Norberry. My brother 
 and her father were great friends. Stephen is 
 very fond of her for her father's sake, and has 
 quite constituted himself her guardian when she is 
 in town." 
 
 The doctor laughed, but evidently his sister's 
 words had a little nettled him. 
 
 " You are right so far, Harriet, that my compan- 
 ion was Miss Jessie, but you do not pay my powers
 
 3IO DOCTOR FORNEY AT HOME. 
 
 of discernment a very high compliment when you 
 attribute my regard for that young lady to my 
 friendship for her father. But did you think Miss 
 Jessie had done me the honor to run away with 
 me ? " he smilingly asked. 
 
 " What was I to think ? You two had started 
 off without telling any one of your intention or 
 destination. Certainly your silence was very puz- 
 zling under the circumstances. You have been 
 gone over a fortnight, and now that you are come 
 home you beat about the bush and tell me nothing. 
 Of course I saw the newspaper notice of your 
 being on one of the snowbound trains, and that is 
 all I have heard from you in the last fortnight." 
 
 " I am sorry to have given you needless anxiety, 
 sister. I did not count on your seeing any such 
 item, or I would have telegraphed you from St. 
 Louis. 
 
 "The business that took me West was Miss 
 Jessie's, and a private matter ; but, Harriet, I have 
 something to tell you." The doctor stopped a 
 moment, as if considering how best to break his 
 news to his sister, and then added : 
 
 " Though I did not come home a married man, 
 as you seem to think I should," smiling, "I ex-
 
 DOCTOR FORNEY AT HOME. 3! I 
 
 pect soon to be one, for Jessie Norberry has prom- 
 ised to be my wife. To-morrow I go to Newbury 
 to ask her uncle's consent to our union ; and, 
 Harriet, I hope after I bring her home we shall be 
 able to make her happy here." 
 
 Evidently the doctor's home had suddenly ac- 
 quired a new interest in his eyes, and for the next 
 few moments he seemed to be taking a mental 
 inventory of the rich and elegant appointments 
 about him. Though not a man vain of his belong- 
 ings, or given to rate them other than as mere ac- 
 cessories of his life, he felt that the most fastidious 
 taste could scarcely find anything at faplt in the 
 externals of his home. 
 
 " I am glad, Stephen ; you deserve to be happy 
 in your marriage, and I sincerely hope you will." 
 The doctor would never know how much of an 
 effort these few words of approval cost his sister, 
 who had been entirely unprepared for this news, 
 notwithstanding that she had suggested it. 
 
 Hereafter another would be first in her brother's 
 heart one whose right it would be to care for 
 him and order his home. Her reign was over. 
 This was the one thought that had stamped itself 
 on her brain : she was to be deposed from her place.
 
 312 DOCTOR FORNEY AT HOME. 
 
 Ten years before this would not have come so 
 hard to her. Then, she had been used to think 
 sometimes of her brother's marriage, and even to 
 plan for it, resolving to go away herself and make 
 her home with a maiden aunt who would have wel- 
 comed her. But now this relative was dead, and 
 she had grown to look upon her brother's home as 
 her own. Her nature was not superficial enough 
 to bear changes kindly, and to go away now would 
 be like tearing up her life by the roots. 
 
 It had always been held by her as a tenet of 
 faith that if a husband and wife were to find hap- 
 piness together they must start upon their mar- 
 ried life alone. No third person should be a wit- 
 ness to the slight differences which are sure to 
 arise between those of different temperaments and 
 habits when brought into the close relations of 
 marriage. 
 
 Since she was dependent upon her brother she 
 would be obliged to stay and make that uncom- 
 fortable third person who would doubtless often 
 find herself d$ trop, for that she could leave him, 
 she knew had never occurred to her brother, and 
 if she did, where should she go ? 
 
 He should never know what this renunciation of
 
 DOCTOR FORNEY AT HOME. 313 
 
 her life cost her, for she felt it would be that, and 
 his happiness should be her first consideration. 
 She could not forget the light in his eyes which 
 had seemed to irradiate his whole face when he 
 told her that Jessie Norberry had promised to be 
 his wife. 
 
 With her brother's choice she had no fault to 
 find in fact, she knew of no one she would rather 
 see his wife, and she called herself jealous and 
 selfish, adding nearly all the other unlovely quali- 
 ties that she did not more heartily share her broth- 
 er's happiness.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ONE TOO MANY. 
 
 THE minister's wife and Jessie were among 
 the last to leave the vestry at the close of 
 the meeting, and, on reaching the street, Mrs. Nor- 
 berry remembered something she wished to say 
 to the sexton, and stepped back, bidding Jessie 
 wait for her a moment. 
 
 Her aunt had no sooner turned, than Jessie saw 
 some one emerge from the shadow of the trees 
 opposite and approach her. The next moment 
 Milton Carrol had grasped her hand, and was say- 
 ing hurriedly, 
 
 " Miss Jessie, you have made me your debtor for 
 life. But I have much to say to you. Shall I 
 find you at home to-morrow ? " His voice was 
 hoarse with emotion, and Jessie felt thankful for 
 the friendly darkness which covered her own con- 
 fusion, for his sudden appearance had strangely 
 disconcerted her. 
 
 3*4
 
 ONE TOO MANY. 315 
 
 "Yes; and I shall be happy to see you," she 
 managed to say calmly ; then he was gone. 
 
 " I am thankful that justice has at last been done 
 Doctor Carrol. I could never blame his wife for 
 holding herself aloof from the people here as she 
 always has, but I hope now she will be able to 
 overlook the past and come among us. I am sure 
 she will be very kindly received if she can bring 
 herself to do so," was Mrs. Norberry's comment as 
 she laid off her wraps that evening. 
 
 The feeling in the town toward the Carrols was 
 a matter about which she had said little ; but it had 
 nevertheless greatly troubled her, and to-night she 
 had been too much moved to lightly dismiss the 
 matter. 
 
 " I wish," she continued, " that Mr. Carrol had 
 happened to be present at the meeting this even- 
 ing, and witnessed the effect of his father's letter ; 
 for it might have in a measure atoned for past cool- 
 ness and suspicion." 
 
 "He was at the meeting," returned the minis- 
 ter, "and he seemed quite overcome, sitting with 
 his head in his hand from the time Doctor Land- 
 ford commenced speaking." Milton Carrol was not 
 in the habit of attending the evening meeting, and
 
 3l6 ONE TOO MANY. 
 
 it had not occurred to Jessie that he had been 
 present on this occasion till he came and spoke to 
 her. 
 
 " Yes," continued Mr. Norberry, "he came in 
 late and took a seat near the door. I think very 
 few in the vestry were aware of his being there. 
 His presence was most opportune, certainly ; but I 
 hardly understand how he happened to come this 
 particular evening." The minister knew that he 
 and Doctor Landford had not met, for the reason 
 that Milton Carrol had only returned to Newbury 
 late that afternoon, and could have had no inkling 
 of what was to happen that evening. 
 
 " Humph ! If all the town were there, I don't 
 know as you need wonder at his being," was Miss 
 Norberry's response. That Milton Carrol had 
 gone to this meeting solely to see her niece, she 
 felt sure. She had been watching Jessie, and her 
 peculiar powers of divination where her niece was 
 concerned, made her certain that she had not only 
 seen, but spoken with the doctor's son. 
 
 Miss Norberry was right in her surmise : that it 
 was the hope of seeing Jessie that had taken him 
 there. She had been so constantly in his thoughts 
 for the last two weeks, that he found himself in-
 
 ONE TOO MANY. 3 1/ 
 
 voluntarily entering the vestry that night, since 
 there was the possibility of meeting her there. 
 
 After learning the real service she had done his 
 father by the long and perilous journey she had 
 just made, he found himself unable to go home 
 without in some way testifying his gratitude to her. 
 Speak to her he must, and had he not found the 
 opportunity to do so privately, he would have braved 
 the gossips and done so more openly. 
 
 So intent was he upon this purpose, that he had 
 for the moment entirely forgotten the man to whom 
 he owed his father's vindication ; nor did he remem- 
 ber him again till he reached home, and found he 
 had preceded him there. 
 
 Doctor Forney had been detained from going to 
 Newbury the day following his return home ; and 
 it so chanced that he was closeted with the minis- 
 ter in his study when Milton Carrol made his pro- 
 posed call upon Jessie. 
 
 For some reason which she could not have de- 
 fined, the latter had dreaded this interview with the 
 doctor's son. That he sought it to thank her for 
 her service to his father was obvious ; but that it 
 foreboded an ordeal for herself, she felt sure. 
 
 And no sooner had she entered his presence
 
 3l8 ONE TOO MANY. 
 
 than her fears were, in part at least, explained, 
 for she found herself at once under the masterful 
 sway of an attraction she could not analyze. 
 
 She had known that his fine, generous nature 
 would keenly appreciate what she had done, and it 
 had occurred to her that she might find his grati- 
 tude embarrassing ; but she was entirely unpre- 
 pared to find her act exalted into a grand and 
 heroic deed. 
 
 For a moment she hardly realized that it was of 
 herself he was speaking ; and then she could not 
 at once find words in which to disclaim this fervid 
 praise. It was on her lips to deny any right to 
 such a tribute, when she found herself listening 
 to an impassioned declaration of love. For a mo- 
 ment she sat as if entranced by these utterances ; 
 but the passionate appeal, " My darling, you do 
 love me a little ! Give me at least this assurance," 
 roused her. She started. What had she been do- 
 ing ? She, the promised wife of another, listening 
 to words like these ! 
 
 " Mr. Carrol, I have no right to hear, or you 
 to speak such words to me. It must not be," she 
 said, raising both hands with a gesture as of putting 
 away from her something which she feared, while
 
 ONE TOO MANY. 319 
 
 she came near giving utterance to the cry of her 
 heart, " It is too late ! " The knowledge of a 
 love which she now knew would have opened to 
 her blessed possibilities of existence of which she 
 had not dreamed, had indeed come too late. But 
 though her lips did not give utterance to the cry 
 which had sprung to them, the man standing op- 
 posite, understood with the prescience of love what 
 the proud spirit was striving to conceal. 
 
 "You do not mean me to understand you are 
 not free ? " he cried. "You cannot act such a lie 
 as to marry any one whom you do not love ? " This 
 passion had carried him out of himself, and for the 
 moment he seemed a stern, accusing spirit. 
 
 " I have promised Doctor Forney I will be his 
 wife, and I am as irrevocably bound as if the vows 
 had been spoken which will unite me to him." 
 
 If she had been announcing her death-doom she 
 could hardly have done it more sadly than in assur- 
 ing Milton Carrol that this promise was inviolable. 
 
 "And you tell me you will marry one whom you 
 do not love ? " came fiercely from the man con- 
 tending with an emotion which well-nigh mastered 
 him. 
 
 "You have no right to assume that," Jessie
 
 32O ONE TOO MANY. 
 
 began, and faltered, "You do not know what I 
 owe him. How kind and true a friend he has 
 proved to me," she said tearfully. 
 
 " But, my darling, you must not do this thing. 
 You cannot carry it out. If you were to try, it 
 would only be to wreck three lives. You, who are 
 are the soul of purity and truth, could never so 
 perjure yourself." 
 
 "Is there one code of honor for a man, and 
 another for a woman ? " she asked, steadying her 
 nerves to speak calmly. "I have not taken this 
 step hastily. It's more than two years since he 
 first asked me to be his wife, and now I have 
 promised, and I acknowledge no impediment to my 
 marriage with him." This was said with a gentle 
 dignity which carried to her hearer a conviction of 
 her earnestness. 
 
 " But you must not try to keep that promise. 
 It was prompted by gratitude from a sense of 
 indebtedness. No man worthy the name would 
 be so base as to take advantage of a promise so 
 given. Jessie, I cannot give you up. I have 
 waited more than two years to tell you of my love. 
 I would not ask you to be my wife while a stain 
 rested upon my name. Believe me, this was my
 
 ONE TOO MANY. 321 
 
 only reason for not speaking." He attempted now 
 to take in his own the hand which lay passively 
 in her lap. 
 
 "Mr. Carrol," she said, rising, and putting the 
 distance of several feet between them, while there 
 was that in her manner which forbade a nearer ap- 
 proach, " I forbid you to speak to me in this way. 
 I beg you will never again attempt it. And now, 
 at the risk of seeming rude, I must ask that you 
 leave me." 
 
 For a moment Milton Carrol stood looking at 
 her, taking in every turn of the graceful figure, 
 and dainty detail of dress, from the shining bands 
 of hair held in place by a silver comb, to the slip- 
 per with which she was unconsciously tapping the 
 carpet. 
 
 Jessie felt her cheek flush beneath his gaze. It 
 was as if he were reading her inmost thoughts as 
 he seemed to her to have the power of doing. She 
 could not trust herself to speak again, though she 
 knew he was waiting for some palliation of her dis- 
 missal. 
 
 " Since my presence seems to give you pain, I 
 will go," he said gently; "but I take with me the 
 assurance that you are not indifferent to me, and
 
 322 ONE TOO MANY. 
 
 that you will never be able to keep your promise 
 to my rival." 
 
 Was Milton Carrol as confident of this last as 
 he seemed ? His words, at least, had that ring 
 in them, and they produced a singular effect upon 
 the girl to whom they were uttered, whose face 
 suddenly lighted up as a doomed man's might 
 under the assurance of a reprieve. 
 
 While Milton Carrol was putting on his coat in 
 the hall, Doctor Forney came out of the minister's 
 study. Any one who had witnessed the meeting 
 of these two men on this occasion would have 
 been struck with the mutual surprise depicted on 
 both faces. They had bowed, passed the compli- 
 ments of the day, Mr. Carrol leaving the house as 
 the doctor passed on to the family sitting-room 
 from whence his rival had a moment before em- 
 erged. 
 
 The room was unoccupied now save by Allan, 
 who had apparently just entered. The boy was 
 disconsolately regarding a box which he held in his 
 hand, but his face instantly lighted up on seeing the 
 doctor. 
 
 "Your cousin is not here ? " said the doctor, his 
 tone a mixture of surprise and disappointment.
 
 ONE TOO MANY. 323 
 
 " No ; she went up-stairs. But say, do you know 
 what the matter was ? " Allan asked. 
 
 " I was not aware of there being anything the 
 matter," replied the doctor. " Did you say Miss 
 Jessie was here a moment since ? " he asked, at a 
 loss to understand why she had not kept her ap- 
 pointment with him. 
 
 She had promised to meet him here at the con- 
 clusion of his interview with her uncle, and she 
 knew that his time was limited, as he had a lecture 
 engagement that evening, and must return to the 
 city by the five o'clock train. What did her ab- 
 sence mean ? 
 
 " Yes ; she was here when I came in, but she 
 run right away, and I know she felt awful about 
 something, 'cause she was crying. But say, can 
 you fix this ? The wire has come unfastened, and 
 it won't play a bit." Saying which, Allan put his 
 music-box, of home-construction, into the doctor's 
 hands. 
 
 Thus appealed to, Doctor Forney gave his at- 
 tention to the disordered works, while Allan, sat- 
 isfied in finding the assistance he had come to 
 seek, turned interlocutor. 
 
 " Say, who were you talking with in the hall
 
 324 ONE TOO MANY. 
 
 just 'fore you came in ? " he asked, watching the 
 dexterous fingers among his works. 
 
 " I met Mr. Carrol going out. You may have 
 heard me speak to him," was the doctor's reply. 
 
 " Whew ! Has Mr. Carrol been here ? What 
 did he come for ? " 
 
 " He did not tell me his business," returned the 
 doctor, who nevertheless supposed that he knew 
 Milton Carrol's errand. 
 
 What more natural than that he should wish to 
 acknowledge his obligation to the girl who had 
 rendered such a service to his dead father as well 
 as to himself ? 
 
 " I'll bet he and Cousin Jess had a quarrel. I 
 couldn't see her face, but I know she was crying 
 'bout something," said Allan, impressed that he 
 had arrived at the solution of the mystery ; for his 
 cousin leaving the room as suddenly as she had 
 without any response to his plea for help, had 
 puzzled him not a little. 
 
 " Guess she don't know what a awful lot of 
 money he spent when she was out West, sending 
 messages and things to find out about her. Papa 
 said Mr. Carrol stayed all the time in the telegraph 
 office, and kept somebody at work day and night
 
 ONE TOO MANY. 325 
 
 sending dispatches. He was almost crazy, he felt 
 so bad 'cause he couldn't hear from her." 
 
 " Little boys should not repeat what they hear 
 their elders say," interposed the doctor. "Miss 
 Jessie had taken that journey on business for Mr. 
 Carrol's father, and it was quite natural he should 
 feel anxious about her, as all her friends did." 
 
 " Oh ! but Mr. Carrol loves her, and means to 
 marry her some day ; and he will, too, for nobody 
 can't get ahead of Mr. Carrol. I ain't telling tales 
 now, for I never heard anybody say so, buf I know 
 some things that people don't tell me," said the 
 boy, who was smarting under the reproof he had 
 just received. 
 
 Did Allan suspect what his own errand had 
 been ? Was the boy cognizant of what had just 
 transpired in his father's study ? Certainly there 
 was no malice in the cherubic face. 
 
 A moment later Allan was recounting the epi- 
 sode of the previous summer ; and the fact that 
 Milton Carrol had found his cousin, and brought 
 her home after everybody else had given her up 
 for dead, lost nothing in Allan's hands. 
 
 Thanks to the doctor's deft fingers and kindly 
 interest, the music-box was now in order, and
 
 326 ONE TOO MANY. 
 
 when Allan left the room in high glee over his 
 mended toy, his words were still ringing in the 
 doctor's ears. 
 
 Was Allan right ? Did Milton Carrol aspire to 
 marry the girl who was so soon to be his own 
 wife ? Why had his call that afternoon so dis- 
 turbed her ? For that she had been disturbed was 
 evident, since her little cousin could not have been 
 mistaken. The boy was too keen, and too fond of 
 Jessie to have been deceived in this matter. 
 
 Here was probably to be found the reason for 
 her having failed to keep her appointment with 
 himself. What had transpired between them to 
 have brought about such a result ? 
 
 At this moment the door opened, and Jessie 
 entered the room.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 MISS NORBERRY'S LESSON. 
 
 HELEN NORBERRY had, perhaps, never 
 in her life felt a greater sense of satisfac- 
 tion than in the engagement of her niece to Doc- 
 tor Forney. The darling wish of her heart was to 
 be realized at last. Jessie would marry into a good 
 old family, and go to live in a centre of culture and 
 fashion, whither her aunt would of course accom- 
 pany her, and become an important part of her 
 household. 
 
 On her return Jessie had told her Aunt Helen 
 just how matters stood between herself and the 
 doctor, and this had proved all the salve necessary 
 to heal that lady's wounded feelings. 
 
 On the afternoon of which we have made men- 
 tion in the previous chapter, Miss Norberry was 
 pacing the floor of her chamber in quite a per- 
 turbed state of mind. If she had been twenty 
 years younger, and the suitor for her niece's hand 
 
 3 2 7
 
 328 MISS NORBERRY'S LESSON. 
 
 had been her own, she would hardly have felt more 
 concerned ; for concerned she certainly was. 
 
 But not as to what was happening in the study ; 
 all was sure to go well there. The doctor was evi- 
 dently very much in earnest, and her brother would 
 not be likely to demur at the brilliant match of- 
 fered his orphan niece. If she could have felt as 
 sure of Jessie herself, she would have had no fears ; 
 but she knew that at the moment Milton Carrol 
 was with her niece, and that their interview was of 
 no ordinary import ; for several times the rich, ear- 
 nest voice of the doctor's son had rung out in tones 
 of passion not to be mistaken. 
 
 She knew when that interview ceased, and when 
 Mr. Carrol left the house, and also that he and the 
 doctor had met ; for no sound from below escaped 
 her sharpened senses. At the same moment she 
 was aware that her niece had come up-stairs and 
 shut herself into her room. 
 
 Now she would know what had passed between 
 her and Mr. Carrol, and why Jessie had not re- 
 mained to see the doctor, who must at that mo- 
 ment be seeking her. 
 
 She stepped across the hall to her niece's door, 
 but found that it was locked.
 
 MISS NORBERRY S LESSON. 329 
 
 "Jessie, I wish to see you," she said perempto- 
 rily. A moment later the door was opened, but the 
 expression of the girl's face startled her. 
 
 " Why ! what is the matter ? " she asked, thrown 
 quite off her guard. 
 
 Jessie closed the door mechanically ere she an- 
 swered. Then she said quietly, "Nothing is the 
 matter, only that I have made a great mistake, 
 and must bear the consequences." Her voice was 
 so full of suppressed sorrow that for a moment her 
 aunt was moved to sympathy ; but suddenly divin- 
 ing how matters stood, and remembering what was 
 at stake, she said angrily, 
 
 " Jessie Norberry, I am ashamed of you. This 
 is no time for a weak indulgence of sentiment. 
 Remember your obligations to Doctor Forney ; 
 and that he is this moment waiting for you. Go 
 down to him immediately, and do not disgrace your- 
 self or your family by any exhibition of maudlin 
 heroics for a man who is destitute alike of honor 
 and courage, for Milton Carrol is both a knave and 
 a fool." 
 
 In her anger lest the doctor's son should step in 
 now to mar her plans, Miss Norberry had gone too 
 far, and aroused a spirit as strong as her own.
 
 33O MISS NORBERRY S LESSON. 
 
 Jessie turned upon her with the dignity of an in- 
 sulted queen : 
 
 " Please remember you are speaking to my fath- 
 er's daughter, who is not likely to disgrace her 
 blood. But I forbid you ever to allude to Mr. Car- 
 rol again in that way, and I deny your right of 
 authority over me in such a matter. I am no 
 longer a child to submit to the coercion of my will. 
 If I keep my promise to Doctor Forney it will be 
 because I feel it right that I should do so ; though 
 I know now that I ought never to have made it. 
 And now if you have, no further business with me, 
 I prefer to be alone." 
 
 That she was dismissed would not have counted 
 with Miss Norberry, but she saw that Jessie's 
 blood was up, and that she would only injure her 
 cause by remaining. 
 
 " When you see fit to apologize for this you can 
 come to me, but I have no further advice to offer 
 to such a headstrong girl ; " and Miss Norberry 
 quitted the room with a semblance of wounded 
 feeling. 
 
 Ten minutes later Jessie went down to the doc- 
 tor, outwardly calm, at least. 
 
 When Doctor Forney left the parsonage an hour
 
 MISS NORBERRY S LESSON. 33! 
 
 later, his marriage with Jessie Norberry had been 
 arranged to take place early in the spring. She 
 had yielded to his wishes in naming an early day, 
 and had been her own sweet, gracious self through- 
 out their interview ; but, nevertheless, the doctor 
 had missed something which he had anticipated. 
 
 Marriage, to be sure, was a serious matter, looked 
 at from a philosophical point of view, but was it 
 usual for a girl of Jessie's years and temperament 
 to so regard it ? If she loved him as a woman 
 should love the man she had promised to marry, 
 would she have misgivings about making him 
 happy ? There had been something pathetic in 
 the way she had responded to his declaration of 
 unbounded faith in her ability to do so. 
 
 Had she really shrunk from all reference to their 
 future together, or had he imagined it ? She had 
 fallen in with all his plans without dissent or sug- 
 gestion. To his proposal of a foreign tour she had 
 acquiesced, as she had to everything else, without 
 any evidence of its giving her pleasure ; in fact, 
 throughout their interview she had shown a gentle 
 submissiveness which, as he thought of it now, 
 he could but feel was foreign to his nature. What 
 did it mean ? It was not till he recalled what had
 
 332 MISS NORBEKRY S LESSON. 
 
 passed between them that these thoughts presented 
 themselves. While he had been with her he had 
 missed nothing, for the effluence of his own love 
 had made him oblivious to all else. 
 
 But now that these thoughts had suggested 
 themselves they troubled him, and he found him- 
 self unable to shake off the impression they left. 
 It must be all his imagination, since Jessie had 
 voluntarily promised to marry him after having 
 had months to consider the matter. Her apparent 
 coldness must be attributable to girlish modesty. 
 When she was his wife she would be fond and lov- 
 ing as he believed it her nature to be. Still the 
 serpent had entered his Eden. Doubt and mis- 
 trust would assail him, strive as he might to put 
 them away. 
 
 Miss Forney watched her brother anxiously after 
 his return from Newbury, and it was very evi- 
 dent to her that his happiness was not without 
 alloy, though he gave no hint that everything was 
 not as he wished. 
 
 Did he begin to have doubts about the step he 
 was taking, now that everything was settled ? Was 
 it only a natural regret for the bachelor life he was 
 leaving behind him ?
 
 MISS NORBERRY S LESSON. 333 
 
 They had been very happy, and now, of course, 
 everything would be changed. Did this girl who 
 was so soon to be her brother's wife appreciate 
 what she had won ? Miss Forney felt that it would 
 be comparatively easy to give him up to one who 
 did, but in the opposite case well, she could not 
 calmly contemplate such an issue. 
 
 She would soon have an opportunity to see them 
 together, and then she would be able to judge for 
 herself, for Jessie was coming up to buy her wed- 
 ding clothes, and would spend a day or two with 
 them. 
 
 " Have you been ill ? " the docter asked anx- 
 iously, when he met Jessie at the station. 
 
 She flushed slightly under his gaze, and some- 
 what reassured by her more natural color as well 
 as her declaration that she was perfectly well, he 
 presently lost sight of this fear in his pleasure at 
 seeing her again. Had he been less absorbed in 
 her he would have noted a pair of dark eyes stern- 
 ly watching them both. 
 
 Though Jessie did not raise her own, she was 
 conscious of these eyes being upon her, and the 
 unusual pallor of her face which had alarmed the 
 doctor, had been due to this fact.
 
 334 MISS NORBERRY S LESSON. 
 
 Milton Carrol had come up to the city on the 
 same train with herself, and though they had only 
 exchanged nods, his presence had disturbed Jessie 
 not a little. It was the first time she had seen 
 him since their interview recorded in the last 
 chapter ; and though they had not spoken, she had 
 known that his eyes were constantly upon her. 
 
 That his trip to the city was an impromptu one, 
 first decided upon when he saw her alight from 
 her uncle's buggy at the station, she felt sure; 
 and that his sole purpose in coming was that he 
 might exercise a surveillance over her movements. 
 
 It was as if this man had fettered her will ; and 
 what disturbed her more was, that she found her- 
 self yielding to his dominant spirit. Now that she 
 had met him again all the barriers she had been 
 striving to put between herself and him had be- 
 come as naught. Would she be able to hold stead- 
 ily to the course she had marked out as her only 
 honorable one ? 
 
 It was a week later when, going one afternoon 
 to the opera with the doctor, she encountered 
 Milton Carrol again. 
 
 Something in the performance had provoked a 
 stinging satire from her companion, at which she
 
 MISS NORBERRY S LESSON. 335 
 
 had laughed heartily, when, happening to look up, 
 she encountered Mr. Carrol's eyes fixed upon her. 
 
 The doctor saw the change which instantly 
 came over her face, and glancing in the direction 
 her eye had taken, he was enlightened as to what 
 had so affected her. Nor did it escape him that 
 from .this moment Jessie was apparently uncon- 
 scious of the performance, though she did not 
 again look in Mr. Carrol's direction. 
 
 On leaving the theatre, they found that it was 
 raining hard, and as their carriage was not to be 
 seen, the doctor left Jessie for a moment to look 
 for it. But he had no sooner done so than she 
 felt a hand laid upon her arm, and, looking up, met 
 the appealing eyes of the man whom she had felt 
 was near her. 
 
 "My darling, this struggle is killing you. Break 
 these hateful bonds and be free. You do not suf- 
 fer alone, for I have been in torment the last fort- 
 night, and the man for whom you are sacrificing 
 yourself is far from happy. Fate is too strong for 
 you you cannot " 
 
 Milton Carrol was prevented from finishing his 
 sentence by the approach of the doctor whom he 
 did not care to meet, and with a courteous good-
 
 336 MISS NORBERRY'S LESSON. 
 
 day, he turned away without having won from 
 Jessie any recognition of his presence. 
 
 The impassioned manner in which he was ad- 
 dressing her had not escaped the doctor, nor was 
 he misled by Mr. Carrol's leave-taking to believe 
 that his words had been of ordinary import such 
 as any one might exchange with a friend. 
 
 " The carriage is close by now. I think Tom 
 was asleep, as he had not even fallen into line. I 
 hope you were not subjected to annoyance through 
 my leaving you," the doctor added as Jessie did 
 not respond. 
 
 " O, no ! Mr. Carrol came and spoke to me ; 
 perhaps you saw him," she said. 
 
 " Yes," was the brief reply, and the next mo- 
 ment the doctor was carefully shielding her from 
 the rain as she crossed the sidewalk to the waiting 
 vehicle. 
 
 They were nearly home when Jessie spoke of her 
 intention to go back to Newbury on the morrow, 
 as she had overstayed the time which she had set 
 to her friends. 
 
 " I am sorry you cannot spend another day with 
 us. Harriet is calculating upon your doing so, and 
 as for myself, I feel as if I had almost been de-
 
 MISS NORBERRY S LESSON. 337 
 
 frauded of my rights, I have seen so little of you." 
 Jessie submitted to the pressure which was a ca- 
 ress of the hand the doctor had taken. 
 
 " I will do better when I come again. You shall 
 have no reason to complain of being defrauded of 
 your rights," she said gently, adding, " if we could 
 but go back to Greek simplicity, one need not be 
 such a slave to one's dressmaker and modiste ; but 
 I suppose I must not be quite a guy, as you might 
 have something to say about that." 
 
 "As if you could be a guy, wear what you would," 
 returned the doctor gallantly, as the carriage drew 
 up at Mrs. Wilson's door. 
 
 A moment later he had bidden her good-night, 
 with the benediction, " May the angels keep you, 
 my child," and the light kiss he left upon her fore- 
 head seemed to Jessie a fitting supplement to his 
 words.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 RELEASE. 
 
 , are you quite sure that this mar- 
 riage is to be for your happiness ? Forgive 
 me for asking the question, but you have not 
 seemed like yourself of late, and I cannot help 
 feeling that something is troubling you." 
 
 The doctor was sitting, preoccupied, before his 
 desk, where he had seated himself half an hour be- 
 fore, ostensibly for work ; but though he had taken 
 his pen in his hand, he had attempted nothing. 
 As his sister spoke, he turned quickly, and a slight 
 flush came into his pale, intellectual face. 
 
 " My marriage with Jessie Norberry, Harriet, 
 will probably never take place. It was a mistake, 
 my thinking to bind her to me, and I have deter- 
 mined to give her back her freedom." The doctor 
 spoke quietly, but his sister saw the passion that 
 lay behind his words. 
 
 " No," he resumed, " I have been indulging in a 
 wild, boyish dream, and the sooner it is forgotten 
 
 338
 
 RELEASE. 339 
 
 the better. To realize this dream has been my 
 hope for the last two years, and I acknowledge that 
 it has been hard to give it up. Jessie Norberry is 
 herself aware that she would not find her highest 
 happiness as my wife, though her sense of honor 
 would hold her to the promise she made me. I 
 have seen to-day what convinces me not only that 
 her heart has never been mine, but that it is given 
 to another ; and since she will not break her bonds, 
 I must do it for her." 
 
 As if he had been bracing himself to this effort, 
 the doctor began at once using the pen in his hand 
 upon the paper which lay before him. A few mo- 
 ments later his sister stole from the room, that her 
 exit might not disturb him, sure that he would not 
 miss her. It was late in the night when she heard 
 him come up the stairs, and as he was not the 
 man to draw back from what he felt was his duty, 
 she knew he had not sought his pillow till that 
 fateful letter had been written which contained the 
 renunciation of his hopes. 
 
 Before Jessie had been two hours at home the 
 doctor's letter was put into her hands, and though 
 she had striven to hide her emotion on reading it, 
 her Aunt Helen who was present, detected it.
 
 34O RELEASE. 
 
 " What is the trouble ? From whom is your 
 letter ? " she asked, noting the changing color with 
 which the girl had scanned its pages. 
 
 For answer, she arose, and, putting it into her 
 aunt's hanJs, quitted the room. 
 
 "Jessie Norberry, you are a fool," was that 
 lady's very decided ejaculation as she took in the 
 purport of the letter. Then, reading the words 
 aloud which had so raised her ire against her 
 niece, " ' I give you up to him whom you love, 
 and who is better fitted than I to make you happy,' 
 Yes, Milton Carrol with his crazy blood is of 
 course a better mate for her, since they will be two 
 lunatics well matched," was the irate rejoinder. 
 
 "I might have expected it," she added sadly, a 
 moment later, knowing now that all her planning 
 and scheming had been in vain. "Jessie never 
 did appreciate her blood. I shall let her know 
 what I think of her playing fast and loose in this 
 way, and with such a man as the doctor, too." 
 Here Miss Norberry picked up the letter which 
 had fallen from her hand, and resumed her read- 
 ing. 
 
 " ' That every blessing which life can bring may 
 attend you, is the prayer of him who will never
 
 RELEASE. 341 
 
 forget his lost love.' She deserves it," was Miss 
 Norberry's comment when she had finished, but 
 she did not allude to the blessing which the writer 
 had called down upon the head of his lost love ; 
 for, notwithstanding the language in which this 
 letter was couched, the angry woman only saw in 
 it the rejection of her niece's hand. 
 
 Doubtless at the moment Miss Norberry meant 
 what she said in declaring her intention to do bat- 
 tle for the doctor, but evidently she thought better 
 of it, for the only notice she took of her niece's 
 broken engagement was to put out of sight at once 
 all the preparations she had been making toward 
 her trousseau. 
 
 Perhaps she had not forgotten Jessie's avowed 
 determination to be guided only by her own judg- 
 ment in this matter. At least her good sense had 
 shown her that nothing was to be gained by her 
 interference, since the doctor had put it out of her 
 power to plot or scheme further for this marriage. 
 
 Milton Carrol seemed likely to win in spite of 
 the heavy stakes she had played against him, and 
 probably she saw that the part of wisdom was to 
 make no further opposition. 
 
 But meanwhile how was Jessie taking her re-
 
 342 RELEASE. 
 
 lease ? On reading the doctor's letter she was sud- 
 denly conscious of losing a great burden, but only 
 to find that another was substituted in its place. 
 
 Why had it been ordained that she should win 
 a love which she had neither appreciated nor been 
 able to return ? When the fact had first come 
 home to her consciousness that the man whom she 
 had promised to marry had never called out the 
 wealth of affection of which she was capable, and 
 that another had done so, in the revulsion of feel- 
 ing toward him it had seemed impossible to keep 
 her promise. 
 
 But there were her obligations to the doctor, 
 more binding to one of Jessie's nature than all the 
 dictates of inclination. Had she not accepted from 
 him services which she would ill requite were she 
 to prove false in keeping her promise to him ? She 
 could not break faith with the doctor after what 
 had passed. No ; a thousand times no ! Better 
 sacrifice her own happiness than to prove recreant 
 to honor and principle. 
 
 She had found her only solace in the thought 
 that the doctor would never know he had not been 
 first in her heart ; for she had determined to do her 
 whole duty as his wife.
 
 RELEASE. 343 
 
 But this sudden release had shown her the prec- 
 ipice upon which she had been standing, and how 
 specious had been such arguing, since she would 
 have been no true wife, however religiously her 
 marriage vows had been kept. 
 
 This girl had a large share of that martyr-spirit 
 with which so many women are endowed, and once 
 having brought herself to feel it was her duty to 
 marry the doctor, it had seemed comparatively 
 easy. But now that her reprieve had come, she could 
 not be glad in it. What would she not have sacri- 
 ficed now to have saved the doctor the disappoint- 
 ment and chagrin to which she had unwittingly 
 subjected him ! 
 
 She was suffering a kind of mental torture now 
 that she could not save from all unpleasant conse- 
 quences of her mistake, the man who had called 
 out her highest esteem, if not love.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 WAITING. 
 
 MILTON CARROL'S desire to see and 
 speak with Jessie on the night of the 
 meeting had made him for the moment forget that 
 the man who had travelled over sixteen hundred 
 miles to vindicate his father's name, deserved some 
 recognition at his hands. 
 
 In leaving the vestry there had been an unde- 
 fined purpose in his mind to make himself known 
 to his father's defender, and insist upon taking him 
 to Elm Brook Farm ; but Doctor Landford had 
 gone clear out of his mind as he saw Jessie and 
 her aunt step upon the sidewalk. 
 
 Our readers are familiar with what followed. 
 After those few words spoken in the shadow of 
 the vestry, Milton Carrol had turned and walked 
 quickly in the direction of home, his thoughts in- 
 tent upon the singular developments of the even- 
 ing, and the coming interview on the morrow with 
 
 Jessie. 
 
 344
 
 WAITING. 345 
 
 So he was not a little surprised on entering the 
 family sitting-room to find his mother in conver- 
 sation with his father's old friend, who had not 
 waited for his invitation to Elm Brook Farm, but 
 had preceded him there. 
 
 Mrs. Carrol was taken entirely by surprise when 
 Doctor Landford was ushered into her presence ; 
 for this was her first intimation that he was in 
 town. 
 
 The unexpected meeting with this friend of 
 former years had called up so many memories that 
 for a few moments she had been too much over- 
 come for the doctor to introduce the matter which 
 had brought him to Newbury, though he was just 
 doing so when her son entered. 
 
 " I was just telling your mother that I have a 
 letter \vritten by your father to me sometime be- 
 fore his death, which I think you would both like to 
 see," Doctor Landford said after greeting the son 
 of his old friend. 
 
 " Yes, I was at the meeting to-night and heard 
 you read that letter; and words would but poorly 
 express the gratitude I feel for your kindness," 
 Milton Carrol said, with a hearty grasp of their 
 visitor's hand.
 
 346 WAITING. 
 
 " Mother," he said now, turning to her, " pre- 
 pare yourself for an explanation of all that was 
 mysterious in my father's life ; for this letter, and 
 what our good friend can tell us of the circum- 
 stance, clears up what has heretofore been inexpli- 
 cable to us." 
 
 Doctor Landford passed the letter to him, and 
 Milton Carrol read aloud while tears were coursing 
 down his mother's cheeks. When he had finished, 
 the doctor repeated substantially the explanation 
 he had given before the meeting. 
 
 " It is strange," said Milton Carrol when he had 
 finished, " that my father should have kept this 
 from us. He talked of it frequently when he was 
 not himself, but never as a mistake ; and we were 
 unable to gather from his utterances, how the af- 
 fair happened, or whose death it was of which he 
 accused himself. This accounts," he continued, 
 " for his being so overcome when he met Mr. 
 Winter at the Glen, the husband of the unfortunate 
 lady." 
 
 " I am sure Doctor Carrol even at that time 
 could not have been himself, to have made such a 
 mistake, since he was the most careful of men. I 
 can easily see how his scrupulous conscientious-
 
 WAITING. 347 
 
 ness should afterward magnify it into a crime," 
 Mrs. Carrol said feelingly. 
 
 " Yes ; and it was most unfortunate he should 
 never have learned that his mistake did not really 
 cause his patient's death, since such an assurance 
 would have saved him many hours of sorrow and 
 self -accusation," returned his son. 
 
 " We physicians oftener have the issues of life 
 and death in our hands than other men, and could 
 we all be as exempt from our mistakes as your 
 father, we should do well," was Doctor Landford's 
 response. 
 
 It was late before Mrs. Carrol or her son would 
 hear to their friend leaving them ; nor would they 
 have consented to his doing so that night, but that 
 his baggage was at the parsonage where they would 
 be looking for him, as he was to leave Newbury 
 early in the morning. 
 
 On the following day Milton Carrol had made 
 the call on Jessie which we have previously re- 
 corded. How that interview ended our readers 
 are aware. 
 
 While declaring with so much apparent certainty 
 that she would not be able to keep her promise to 
 his rival, down deep in his heart was the con vie-
 
 348 WAITING. 
 
 tion that the spirit which had prompted her to 
 brave so much of danger and physical discomfort 
 to keep her word in the simple matter of delivering 
 a letter, would exact the fulfilment of her bond even 
 to the sacrificing of herself. 
 
 It was this belief which sent him to the city on 
 the occasion of her going up to buy her wedding 
 clothes. The desire to save her from the exactions 
 of an overscrupulous conscientiousness made him 
 cognizant of her every movement during all these 
 tedious shopping tours, and interviews with dress- 
 makers and modistes, in which she had never been 
 alone. 
 
 The only chance he had found to speak with her 
 in all that week had been in the theatre vestibule 
 when he had begged her to break her bonds and 
 be free. That she was suffering was evident to 
 him, and the fact well-nigh tortured him. 
 
 Had Miss Norberry seen him that night when 
 he rushed out in the rain forgetful of the fact that 
 he was in evening dress, she would have had some 
 reason to believe him subject to attacks of lunacy, 
 as she had often declared was the case. 
 
 He was aware of Jessie's leaving the city the 
 following day, and he had hoped much from her
 
 WAITING. 349 
 
 doing so. Knowing that she had returned to 
 Newbury, he breathed more freely; for, notwith- 
 standing that she kept herself invisible to him, it 
 was a satisfaction to know that she was not with 
 his rival. 
 
 The sense of security which he felt in her being 
 at home was short-lived, however ; for scarcely a 
 fortnight had elapsed when he heard what, for the 
 moment, nearly took his breath away. 
 
 Three days before, she had left for New York, 
 whence she was to sail for Europe. In fact she 
 had gone abroad with her Aunt Wilson. No lisp 
 of any such intention on her part had gotten out 
 in the town, and she was already on the ocean ere 
 it was known in Newbury. 
 
 What did it mean ? Had she indeed broken 
 her engagement with Doctor Forney ? It must be 
 that this was the case, for they were to have been 
 married in the spring. 
 
 Milton Carrol's heart gave a great leap, and his 
 first impulse was to follow and claim his love ; but 
 a calmer second thought showed him that Jessie 
 had gone away now to avoid him. He would be 
 patient and wait, since she had broken her bonds ; 
 in the near future his love would return to him.
 
 35O WAITING. 
 
 Possessing a thoroughly healthy nature he did 
 not give himself up to vain longings for a sight of 
 the face which would have so blessed his vision ; 
 nor did he turn aside from any of the prosaic 
 duties which just now made up his life. With the 
 care of settling up his father's estate, and looking 
 after his farm, he had little time for brooding over 
 Jessie's absence, while a fair sweet presence sweet- 
 ened every duty, so constantly was she with him 
 in his thoughts. 
 
 It was in November that she had gone away, 
 and when the loveliness of spring was abroad in 
 the land, he thought of her wandering among the 
 beauties of the Tyrol ; and when the scorching 
 heats of summer parched the country side he re- 
 membered that she was looking down from her 
 altitude among the Alps upon green valleys where 
 a perpetual irrigation made such an arid condition 
 impossible. But the winter and another spring 
 rolled away, and still she did not come. 
 
 In boating his hay up river on a fair August 
 night, Milton Carrol found himself strangely 
 haunted by remembrances of that night two years 
 before when Jessie had been his companion on a 
 like trip.
 
 WAITING. 351 
 
 The same sweet, wistful eyes seemed to be 
 again looking at him from the bow of the boat. 
 How insensate he had been on that occasion. 
 Why had he not spoken then ? Had he done so, 
 this weary separation might have been averted. 
 Was it some subtle, spiritual communication which 
 came to him across the intervening waters ? So 
 near to him did his love seem at that moment, 
 that he uttered the words of tender endearment 
 which sprang to his lips. 
 
 It was only two days later that business took 
 him to the city, and whom should he meet in the 
 station but the fair personation of all his thoughts. 
 Jessie in her young bright beauty stood before 
 him. Their eyes met, and the next moment he 
 was holding a soft little hand which closed with a 
 firm pressure on his own. 
 
 Their greeting over, inquiries followed, and Mil- 
 ton Carrol learned that Jessie had landed two days 
 before (the very hour when she had seemed so 
 near him) and that she was now on her way to 
 Newbury. 
 
 Whatever his business had been, he at once 
 forgot that he had any other than to accompany 
 her there.
 
 WAITING. 
 
 A railroad train is, perhaps, not the most de- 
 sirable place in the world for the exchanging of 
 lovers' vows, but probably worse places have been 
 utilized for such a purpose. It was certainly soon 
 settled between the couple who had taken a rear 
 seat in the car that they were to be one instead of 
 two hereafter. 
 
 " I have waited patiently for you, my darling, 
 but I will never let you go from me again," was 
 Milton Carrol's passionate utterance, followed by 
 the declaration, " You are mine now, and I shall 
 make no delay in asserting my claims, lest you 
 escape me again." 
 
 " Remember this is a free country," was Jessie's 
 laughing response. " If you attempt to put me in 
 bonds I can appeal to the law. But do not fear 
 that I shall again run away from you," she added, 
 with grave sweetness. " I am satisfied with wan- 
 dering over the face of the earth, home will be 
 dearer to me than ever before." 
 
 " The only bonds I will put upon you are those 
 of love, but they will hold you very tightly," re- 
 turned the fond lover, "and I want you should 
 wear your fetters at once, for I shall never feel 
 sure of you till you have given yourself to me."
 
 WAITING. 353 
 
 " I suppose you can claim your own when and 
 where you like," said Jessie archly, adding a mo- 
 ment later, " If you want so uncertain a blessing 
 as myself you have only to take me, since the doc- 
 tor would not." 
 
 Milton Carrol would probably have interpreted 
 this permission very literally if such a proceeding 
 would not have had spectators ; as it was, he was 
 obliged to content himself with raising to his lips 
 the hand which was folded tenderly in both his 
 own. 
 
 A few months later there was a quiet wedding 
 in the parsonage, for Jessie wanted no display in 
 her marriage, and only a few friends were present 
 to wish the wedded pair joy on the journey which 
 inaugurated their honeymoon. 
 
 Mrs. Carrol, a few weeks later, gave her new 
 daughter a mother's welcome, and at once resigned 
 her place as mistress of Elm Brook Farm to her 
 son's wife. This marriage was the fulfillment of a 
 hope she had long cherished. 
 
 Jessie had always been a great favorite among 
 her uncle's parishioners, and she seemed not to 
 have lost a whit of their esteem in her marriage ; 
 for she had no sooner settled down in her husband's
 
 354 WAITING. 
 
 home, than Elm Brook Farm became the most 
 popular house in the town. Somehow, too, the 
 people of Newbury suddenly awoke to the fact that 
 the doctor's widow was a great acquisition to the 
 place. The minister had for some time found 
 in Mrs. Carrol his most efficient ally, and he was 
 always sure of her assistance in every good work. 
 
 Since her husband's death she had gone more 
 into society, where she had soon made many 
 friends, and ere long her voice was often heard in 
 the evening meetings. 
 
 It was an innovation in Newbury for a woman 
 to speak at these gatherings for praise and prayer, 
 but John Norberry had urged this gifted lady to 
 do so ; and certainly no one had found cause for 
 offense in the sweet, Christian teaching which fell 
 from her lips. In fact, her noble, exemplary life 
 came to be the standard of womanly excellence in 
 the town. 
 
 We will take a peep at Jessie ten years after her 
 marriage. Her home is no longer in Newbury, 
 though she still spends her summers there. 
 
 Her husband has some time since been called to 
 a position which necessitates his passing most of 
 his time at the nation's capital ; and here he has
 
 WAITING. 355 
 
 his family with him ; for he feels that life is much 
 too short for frequent separations from his dear 
 ones. 
 
 So Jessie has come to regard Washington as her 
 home, where she spends the greater part of the 
 year, and where her children are growing up 
 around her. 
 
 In her beautiful home she often receives the first 
 people of the country, but among her most wel- 
 come guests are Doctor Forney and his sister, 
 whom she counts among her warmest friends, and 
 who seldom allow a year to pass without making 
 her a visit. 
 
 Miss Forney when seeing Jessie's sweet ma- 
 tronly ways, and her gentle, loving manner of 
 managing her children, often thinks with a sigh 
 of what might have been, while the doctor seems 
 to have transferred the love he bore the mother to 
 her children, who think there is nobody in the 
 world quite so good as " Uncle Stephen." 
 
 Miss Norberry has changed her opinion some- 
 what in regard to Jessie's marriage ; for now that 
 lady often speaks with no little pride of, " My 
 niece, the Honorable Mrs. Milton Carrol. 
 
 Young Mrs. Carrol's beauty, grace, and unaf-
 
 356 WAITING. 
 
 fected manners have won appreciation even in 
 high places ; but she is never so happy in the bril- 
 liant city life where she truly reigns a queen, as 
 when with her little family she goes in the early 
 spring to old Newbury, and settles down to the 
 quiet, rural life which always had so great a charm 
 for her.
 
 A 000 131 393 1