--

"Good night."

Jones took the hand. There was no glove on it; and, gently raising it,
he pressed it to his lips.

"Madam," he articulated, "good night; farewell. While you are asleep, I
shall be thinking of you. On this road, gazing on the window of the room
in which I think you are, I shall enjoy more rest than anywhere else I
can go."

He was about to add something more; but his utterance became choked;
and, again pressing her hand to his lips, while a tear fell on it, he
turned abruptly away. Miss Manners said not a word--her heart was too
full--but closed the gate behind her and disappeared. Jones listened. He
heard her step as she went up the gravel walk, and he heard nothing
more. The night was, by this time, fearfully dark, and everything around
him was silent. He walked on a short distance, returned, and again
walked on. His mind was whirling and confused. He tried to recollect
every word which Miss Manners had said, and by this means to get at the
real state of her feelings; but he was too much agitated for reflection.
On gaining his lodging, he felt faint, and put himself immediately to
bed. All night long he tossed about in sleepless excitement; and, in the
morning, fell into a feverish doze, broken by unintelligible dreams.
When he awoke, he rose up, and felt so giddy as to be unable to stand,
and again went to bed. During the day, he felt shivering and unwell;
and, the next day, the same symptoms continued, and with increased
violence. Another day arrived--another, and another--and all
consciousness left him. Several weeks elapsed, and found him still
bedridden, but convalescent; and it was nearly three months before he
was enabled to venture out, and then only when the sun was warm.

"You have been long out, Marion," said Mr. Manners to his daughter, as
she returned from her accidental interview with Jones. "I was afraid
some accident had befallen you."

"No," said Miss Manners, whose eyes were slightly inflamed; for, somehow
or other, she had wept before entering the house: "no accident."

"Child," said her father, "what has happened--you look ill!"

Miss Manners told all--her meeting with Jones, and his passionate
declaration; but, notwithstanding that her father conjured her not to
think of him, she thought of him all night long.

The news of Jones' illness spread rapidly through the village; but, as
might be expected, excited little sympathy. With the exception of Mr.
Manners and the sur