t enjoying herself, said 'No!' very
decidedly. It would be hot there, and she was anxious to be with Maude
as soon as possible. So they drove on until they reached the grounds
which surrounded the house, and which Jerrie thought more beautiful than
she had ever seen them. The grass was like velvet, with masses of
flowers and shrubs, and urns, and bits of statuary here and there, while
over a little brook where Jerrie and Maude had often waded, and where
poor Jack had had a little water-wheel, a rustic bridge had been built,
with a pretty summer-house just beyond. Frank Tracy was a natural
gardener, and had lavished piles of money upon the grounds, in which he
often worked himself, and where he was busy now with a clump of roses
when Tom drove up with Jerrie.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

AT THE PARK HOUSE.

It was six months since Jerrie had seen Frank Tracy, and even in that
time he had changed so much that she noticed it at once, and looked at
him wonderingly as he came quickly toward her with a smile on his
haggard face, and an eager welcome in his voice, as he gave her both
his hands, and told her how glad he was to see her.

His hair was very white, and she noticed how he stooped as he walked
with her to the house and told her how anxiously Maude was waiting for
her.

'But she cannot talk just yet,' he said. 'You must do all that. The
doctor tells us there is no danger, if she is kept quiet for a few days.
Oh, Jerrie, what if I should lose Maude after all.'

They were ascending the staircase now, and Frank was holding Jerrie's
hand while she tried to comfort and reassure him, and then thanked him
for the fruit and the flowers he had sent to the cottage for her the day
before.

'You are so good to me,' she said, 'you and Mr. Arthur. How lonely the
house seems without him.'

'Yes,' Frank replied, though in his heart he felt his brother's absence
as a relief, for his presence was a constant reproach to him, and helped
to keep alive the remorse which was always tormenting him.

The sight of Jerrie, too, was a pain, but she held a nameless
fascination for him, and he was constantly wondering what she would say
and do when she knew, as he was morally sure she would sometime know
what he had done. He was thinking of this now, and saying to himself,
'She will not be as hard upon me as Arthur,' as he led her up the stairs
and stopped at the door of Arthur's rooms.

'Would you like to go in?' he asked. 'I have the k