“I have been hoping to meet you
among our friends,” Gwynne said,
“but none knew of your whereabouts.”
“I’ve been staying with my old
nurse, Diane, and working in a milli
nery store. Henrietta told me how
hard-up poer papa was, and that it
was necessary I should work for my
living, but that no one at home—only
she —must know. You will not tell,
I’m sure, Mr. Hilliard.”
His eyes grew moist as he gazed
down on the pale, plain, earnest little
face. The squire did not go back to
his luxurious home that day. He saw
Jessie repeatedly during the few
weeks that followed, and he marveled
at his former blindness.
“Jessie,” he said one day, “I’ve
grown very fond of you, dear. But
I'm afraid to speak my heart out,
when I recollect what Henrietta said
of your dislike of me.”
“Oh,” cried Jessie, “did she aay
that? She knew better —she knew—”
“Knew what?” he insisted quiz do
ally.
lie tried to draw her hands down
from her hot cheeks. But Jessie
would not answer. They were mar
ried from the home of Gwynne’s sis
ter and on a sweet spring evening
went to their own home. The follow
ing day was Sunday, and when Mrs.
Hilliard, in the most exquisite of Par
isian toilets, walked with her husband
up to “the squire’s” Henrietta’s face
became suddenly Swarthy, and
gloomed with ugliness.
“The little trickster!”she muttered.
But Jessie was happy. So was Hil
liard. And perhaps Jamie was the
happiest of the three—and proudest,
too —when his friend held his frail
hand tight aud said:
“You were right, lad—God bless
you!”
Wonderful Vitality of Insert Efifjrr.
