dance of hares and pheasants. Jane said they had not been molested
since her father's death, but now they were going to send some of them
to market. As we approached the house, an old man came to meet us and I
gave my horse to his care. He had the keys of the house and he opened
the great door for us. The Hall was very high and cold and lonely, but
in a parlor on the right-hand side we found an old woman lighting a
fire which was already blazing merrily. Jane knew her well and she told
her to make us a pot of tea and bring it there. With her own hands she
drew forward a handsome Pembroke table, and then we went together
through the main rooms of the house. They were furnished in the time of
the Regency, Jane said, and it was easy to recognize the rich, ornate
extravagance of that period. In all this conversation, mother, we were
drawing nearer and nearer to each other and I kept in mind that I had
called her once 'my dear' and that she had shown no objection to the
words."

"I suppose the old man and woman were John Britton and his wife Dinah. I
believe they have charge of the place."

"I think so. I heard Jane give the man some orders about the glass in
the windows and he spoke to her concerning the bee skeps and the dahlia
bulbs being all right for winter. In half an hour there was a nice
little tea ready for us, and just imagine, mother, how it felt for me to
be sitting there drinking tea with Jane!"

"Was it a nice tea, John?"

"Mother, what can I tell you? I wasn't myself at all. I only know that
Dinah came in and out with hot cakes and that Jane put honey on them and
gave them to me with smiles and kind words. It was all wonderful! If I
had been dreaming, I might have felt just as much out of the body."

"Jane can be very charming, I know that, John."

"She was something better than charming, mother; she was kind and just
a little quiet. If she had been laughing and noisy and in one of her
merry moods, it would not have been half so enchanting. It was her sweet
sedateness that gave sureness and reality to the whole affair.

"We left Harlow House just as the hunting-moon was rising. Its full
yellow splendor was over everything, and Jane looked almost spiritual in
its transfiguring light. Mother, I do not remember what I said, as I
walked with her hand-in-hand through the park. Ask your own heart,
mother. I have no doubt father said the same words to you. There can
only be one language for an emotion so power