s sung in
the trees above him, fluttered from branch to branch, and even
dipped their wings in the calm waters of the stream, but he heeded
them not. He had other thoughts. Greatly had old Mrs. Lee, in the
blindness of her suddenly aroused fears, wronged the young man. If
the sphere of innocence that was around the beautiful girl had not
been all powerful to subdue evil thoughts and passions in his
breast, the reference to his mother would have been effectual to
that end.

For half an hour had Mark remained seated alone, busy, with thoughts
and feelings of a less wandering and adventurous character than
usually occupied his mind, when, to his surprise, he saw Jenny
Lawson advancing along a path that led through a portion of the
woods, with a basket on her arm. She did not observe him until she
had approached within some fifteen or twenty paces; when he arose to
his feet, and she, seeing him, stopped suddenly, and looked pale and
alarmed.

"I am glad to meet you again, Jenny," said Mark, going quickly
toward her, and taking her hand, which she yielded without
resistance. "Don't be frightened. Mrs. Lee did me wrong. Heaven
knows I would not hurt a hair of your head! Come and sit down with
me in this quiet place, and let us talk about my mother. You say you
knew her and loved her. Let her memory make us friends."

Mark's voice trembled with feeling. There was something about the
girl that made the thought of his mother a holier and tenderer
thing. He had loved his mother intensely, and since her death, had
felt her loss as the saddest calamity that had, or possibly ever
could, befall him. Afloat on the stormy sea of human life, he had
seemed like a mariner without helm or compass. Strangely enough,
since meeting with Jenny at the cottage a little while before, the
thought of her appeared to bring his mother nearer to him; and when,
so unexpectedly, he saw her approaching him in the woods, he felt
momentarily, that it was his mother's spirit guiding her thither.

Urged by so strong an appeal, Jenny suffered herself to be led to
the retired spot where Mark had been reclining, half wondering, half
fearful--yet impelled by a certain feeling that she could not well
resist. In fact, each exercised a power over the other, a power not
arising from any determination of will, but from a certain spiritual
affinity that neither comprehended. Some have called this "destiny,"
but it has a better name.

"Jenny," said Mark, after