throbbed in a unison of reciprocal emotion.

One moment more, and--Mell stood off at some little distance, looking
back roguishly at the figure kneeling alone beside the old stump, with
outstretched arms tenderly embracing naught, and stealthy lips
defrauded of their prey.

Mr. Devonhough did mind a losing game such as this. To be made to feel
foolish and to look foolish, was more than he could tolerate under any
conjuncture of circumstances. He extricated himself as speedily and as
gracefully as possible.

"Miss Creecy!"

"Mr. Devonhough!"

"You will probably treat me with ordinary civility, at the time of our
next meeting."

"And you will probably do the same toward me."

"We shall see, as to that."

He bowed blandly, and turned upon his heel. He was going away? Well,
he wouldn't go far. Mell was so confident on this point, that she
seated herself comfortably on the old stump again, and gave herself no
uneasiness. She could not credit the evidences of her own senses when
the moving figure became first a mere speck upon the horizon, and then
a something gone, lost, swallowed up into the unseen.

"It passes belief," said Mell; "surely he will come back, even yet!"

She waited one hour longer; she waited two--he evidently did not
intend to come back.

She went home with a troubled heart.

The next morning, feeling somewhat more cheerful at what she
considered the certain prospect of seeing him again, and to a somewhat
better purpose, she called for Suke, in feverishly high spirits, and
the two set off together on a spirited race down the hill.

One hour--two hours--three hours--and not a sign of her truant lover.

Mell burst into an agony of tears.

"I am no match for him," she sobbed. "He is heartless and cynical, and
imperious and selfish. He does not care in the very least bit for me
and I"--springing to her feet, and dashing away her tears--"I do not
know, at this moment, Jerome Devonhough, whether I most love or hate
you!"

This feeling of sullen resentment sustained her through that long,
long day. In the cool of the evening her mother sent her on an errand
to the little country store, about a mile distant. Coming back she
encountered a gay cavalcade of ladies and gentlemen on horseback,
conspicuous among them, Jerome. She had no reason to suppose he
recognized, or even saw, the quiet figure plodding along on foot, and
catching the dust from their horses' hoofs.

"This is my life," said Mell,