at
satins and diamonds, though out of place on little Bessie McPherson, of
Stoneleigh, were fitting adornments for Mrs. Grey Jerrold, of Boston. He
had called her Bessie, as of old, and the repeating the dear name to
her, and seeing the quick, responsive smile and questioning glance he
knew so well, nearly unmanned him, and raised within him such a tempest
of love, and remorse, and regret for what he had lost, that it required
all his fortitude and will not to break down entirely, and to seem
natural and at ease during the dinner, to which Grey had invited him,
and which was served in the private parlor.

Half an hour or more after dinner a servant brought in a card with Jack
Trevellian's name upon it, and in a moment Jack was with them, shaking
hands cordially with both Grey and Bessie, and appearing as much at his
ease as he did in the park when he first saw the latter and told her who
the people were, while she, a shy country girl, looked on wonderingly
and made her quaint remarks. She did not look like a country girl now,
and Jack's eyes followed her admiringly as she moved around the room,
with a faint flush on her cheeks and a very little shyness perceptible
in her manner. Once, when standing near her, he put a hand on either
shoulder, and looking down into her face said to her:

"Do you know, Mrs. Jerrold how nearly my heart was broken when I thought
you were dead, and that for months the brightness of my life seemed
blotted out. But it is all right now, and I am glad for you that you are
Grey Jerrold's wife. You will be very happy with him."

"Yes, yes, very happy," Bessie answered, and then, scarcely knowing why
she did so, she asked him abruptly for Flossie, and where she was.

"At Trevellian Castle," Jack replied, taking his hands from her
shoulders and stepping back from her. "She is there with her
grandmother, a cantankerous old woman, who leads Flossie a sorry life,
or would if she were not so light-hearted that trouble slips from her
easily."

"No one could be happy with Mrs. Meredith," Bessie said, "She is so
cross and unreasonable, and I pity poor Flossie, who is made for
sunshine. I wish she would go to America with us. I should be so glad to
have her, and I mean to write and ask her. Do you think she would like
to go?"

"Ye-es--no--I don't know," Jack answered, thoughtfully, while it seemed
to Bessie that a shadow passed over his face, and he sat for a few
moments in a brown study as if revolvi