from Harmouth--just for a
little while, till the memories faded--and, in a future of perfect
love, think kindly, gratefully, pitifully, of Simeon.

You see, she was desperately in love, poor child, and at last heart
and conscience were in accord.

Her feet fairly danced up the street; she moved so lightly she hardly
rustled the carpet of fallen leaves that overspread the pavement. It
was a glorious day, the sun was touching all prosaic things with gold,
and up in heaven, against the interminable blue, little white clouds
sailed in dapples, such as Raphael charged with angel faces, and every
face seemed to smile.

Wandering across the campus, under the stately arches of the college
elms, she finally reached the open country, and, realizing that even
the wings of happiness are mortal, she turned homeward, choosing the
avenue that led past French's place. Perhaps she hoped for reassuring
signs of his coming--doors and windows thrown open and gardeners at
work upon the ground--but before she got beyond the high hedge that
cut off her view, a carriage, which she recognized as Stephen's, drove
rapidly toward the gate, and in it sat a lady, stately and grand, but
so closely veiled as to defy both sun and curiosity. At a sign from
her the carriage stopped, and a voice exclaimed:

"I have just been to see you, Mrs. Ponsonby, and was so much
disappointed to find you out--and so was some one else, I fancy, who I
am sure has been at your house this morning! Pray get in and drive
home with me. And I will send you back to town after you have paid me
a little visit."

Deena had by this time recognized Mrs. Star, and recovered
sufficiently from her surprise to take the offered seat in the
carriage, but she was in such a tumult of hope and fear she hardly
dared trust herself to do more than greet her old friend. Mrs. Star
understood quite well, and gave her time to recover her wits by a
characteristic harangue.

"How am I?" she repeated, sardonically. "Lame for life! I have never
got over McTorture's treatment, and never shall. Oh, no, it was not
the original accident--that was an innocent affair--it is the result
of McTorture's nonsense in keeping me chained to my sofa in one
position till my leg stiffened. But never mind about doctors; they're
all alike--bad's the best! You look handsome and healthy enough to
keep out of their clutches; tell me all about yourself."

"There is never anything to tell about me," said Deena. "I