"Is there not another young man who courts you more civilly than Tom
Bowles does, and whom you really could find it in your heart to like?"

Jessie looked round for another daffodil, and not finding one, contented
herself with a bluebell, which she did not tear to pieces, but caressed
with a tender hand. Kenelm bent his eyes down on her charming face
with something in their gaze rarely seen there,--something of that
unreasoning, inexpressible human fondness, for which philosophers of
his school have no excuse. Had ordinary mortals, like you or myself, for
instance, peered through the leaves of the thorn-trees, we should have
sighed or frowned, according to our several temperaments; but we should
all have said, whether spitefully or envyingly, "Happy young lovers!"
and should all have blundered lamentably in so saying.

Still, there is no denying the fact that a pretty face has a very unfair
advantage over a plain one. And, much to the discredit of Kenelm's
philanthropy, it may be reasonably doubted whether, had Jessie Wiles
been endowed by nature with a snub nose and a squint, Kenelm would have
volunteered his friendly services, or meditated battle with Tom Bowles
on her behalf.

But there was no touch of envy or jealousy in the tone with which he
said,--

"I see there is some one you would like well enough to marry, and
that you make a great difference in the way you treat a daffodil and a
bluebell. Who and what is the young man whom the bluebell represents?
Come, confide."

"We were much brought up together," said Jessie, still looking down,
and still smoothing the leaves of the bluebell. "His mother lived in the
next cottage; and my mother was very fond of him, and so was Father
too; and, before I was ten years old, they used to laugh when poor Will
called me his little wife." Here the tears which had started to Jessie's
eyes began to fall over the flower. "But now Father would not hear of
it; and it can't be. And I've tried to care for some one else, and I
can't, and that's the truth."

"But why? Has he turned out ill?--taken to poaching or drink?"

"No, no, no; he's as steady and good a lad as ever lived. But--but--"

"Yes; but--"

"He is a cripple now; and I love him all the better for it." Here Jessie
fairly sobbed.

Kenelm was greatly moved, and prudently held his peace till she had a
little recovered herself; then, in answer to his gentle questionings, he
learned that Will Somers--till then a healt