could not
tell, for his letters gave her more real satisfaction than did those
of J.C., fraught as the latter were with protestations of constancy
and love. Slowly dragged the weeks, and the holidays were at hand,
when she received a message from J.C., saying he could not possibly
come as he had promised. No reason was given for this change in his
plan, and with a sigh of disappointment Maude turned to a letter
from Nellie, received by the same mail. After dwelling at length
upon the delightful time she was having in the city, Nellie spoke of
a fancy ball to be given by her aunt during Christmas week. Mr. De
Vere was to be "Ivanhoe," she said, and she to be "Rowena."

"You don't know," she wrote, "how interested J.C. is in the party.
He really begins to appear more as he used to do. He has not
forgotten you, though, for he said the other day you would make a
splendid Rebecca. It takes a dark person for that, I believe!"

Maude knew the reason now why J.C. could not possibly come, and the
week she had, anticipated so much seemed dreary, enough,
notwithstanding it was enlivened by a box of oranges and figs from
her betrothed, and a long, affectionate letter from James De Vere,
who spoke of the next Christmas, saying he meant she should spend it
at Hampton.

"You will really be my cousin then," he wrote, "and I intend
inviting yourself and husband to pass the holidays with us. I want
my mother to know you, Maude. She will like you, I am sure, for she
always thinks as I do."

This letter was far more pleasing to Maude's taste than were the
oranges and figs, and: Louis was suffered to monopolize the latter--a
privilege which he appreciated, as children usually do. After the
holidays J.C. paid a flying visit to Laurel Hill, where his presence
caused quite as much pain as pleasure, so anxious he seemed to
return. Rochester could not well exist without him, one would
suppose, from hearing him talk of the rides he planned, the surprise
parties he man--aged, and the private theatricals of which he was
the leader.

"Do they pay you well for your services?" Louis asked him once, when
wearying of the same old story.

J.C. understood the hit, and during the remainder of his stay was
far less egotistical than he would otherwise have been. After his
departure there ensued an interval of quiet, which, as spring
approached, was broken by the doctor's resuming the work of repairs,
which had been suspended during the coldest weat