d her. She recognized
nothing in the surroundings. How bright and sweet, with sun and
flowers, the woods were, with great maple trees opening out their
swollen buds into little points of leaves, like baby-fists into chubby
fingers and thumbs. On they went down to the creek which flowed the
other way. Julia remembered that they came up it to find the road,
and they now turned down its bank. How sweet, and soft, and bright
it looked, flecked with sunbeams, and giving out little gurgles of
water-laughs, as if it recognized her--"Oh! it is you, is it, this
bright day? Where is the handsome youth you clung to, on a winter
morning, we know of? I know you!"--with its little ripples.

They soon came to where the rock cropped out from the sloping ground
and formed a ledge along the margin of the diminished stream, and soon
reached the little cove; there was the rude shelter which had covered
Julia, and under it the couch of shavings on which she had rested, a
little scattered and just as she had left it; and, near its foot, the
still fresh brands that almost seemed to smoke. How strong and real it
all came to the sensibilities of the girl! Nothing had been there but
the tender silent fingers of nature. Yes, as she sat down on her old
bed, and glanced up, she saw a bright-eyed Phoebe-bird who had built
just over her head, and now was on her nest, while her mate poured out
the cheery clang of his love song, on a limb near by. The little half
circle of ground, walled in by the high mossy rocks, opened southerly,
and received the full glow of the afternoon sun, while in front of
it ran the laughing, gleeful creek. It was very bright, but to Julia
very, very lonely. In a few words she pointed out to the sympathizing
Bose the few localities, and mentioned the incidents of that awful
morning, and then she turned very gravely and thoughtfully back.

Rose very, very much wanted to ask about Barton; her woman's instincts
told her that here was a something sweet and yet mysterious, that made
everything so dear to this beautiful and now pensive girl by her side.
His name had not been mentioned, and Julia had only referred to him,
as "he did this;" "he sat by that tree." At last Rose ventured: "Where
is he--this Mr. Ridgeley? Mother said he went away."

"Yes; I never saw him after you took me into your bed, Rose," said
Julia.

"He saw you after that, Miss Markham."

"What do you mean, Rose?"

"I am sure you would like to know," said R