are many.

And to me he is all that I used to wish the boy Jasper might be, and
he has a reason for loving me which Jasper never had.

For he said to me when he first spoke to me after his father's
funeral--

'My mother was a farmer's girl,' he said, 'and your father was a
farmer, so I feel we come, as it were, of one blood; and besides
that, I know who my father's friends were. I never forget those
things.'

I still live on as a housekeeper at the Hall. My master left me no
money, but he bade his heir keep me on in my old place. I am glad to
think that he did not choose to leave me money, but instead the
great picture of himself that hung in the Hall. It hangs in my room
now, and looks down on me as I write.

ONE WAY OF LOVE

YOU don't believe in coincidences, which is only another way of
saying that all things work together for good to them that love
God--or them that don't, for that matter, if they are honestly
trying to do what they think right. Now I do.

I had as good a time as most young fellows when I was young. My
father farmed a bit of land down Malling way, and I walked out with
the prettiest girl in our parts. Jenny was her name, Jenny Teesdale;
her people come from the North. Pretty as a pink Jenny was, and neat
in her ways, and would make me a good wife, every one said, even my
own mother; and when a man's mother owns that about a girl he may
know he's got hold of a treasure. Now Jenny--her name was Jane, but
we called her Jenny for short--she had a cousin Amelia, who was
apprenticed to the millinery and dress-making in Maidstone; the two
had been brought up together from little things, and they was that
fond of each other it was a pleasure to see them together. I was
fond of Amelia, too, like as a brother might be; and when Jenny and
me walked out of a Sunday, as often as not Amelia would come with
us, and all went on happy enough for a while. Then I began to notice
Jenny didn't seem to care so much about walking out, and one Sunday
afternoon she said she had a headache and would rather stay at home
by the fire; for it was early spring, and the days chilly. Amelia
and me took a turn by ourselves, and when we got back to Teesdale's
farm, there was Jenny, wonderfully brisked up, talking and laughing
away with young Wheeler, whose father keeps the post-office. I was
not best pleased, I can tell you, but I kept a still tongue in my
head; only, as time went on, I couldn't help seeing Jenny d