en Kyte took Mary Grey to the gate of her boarding-house, where, as
the place was silent and deserted, they paused for a few last words.

"Mind, the first thing you do to-morrow morning will be to go and find
the owner of the haunted house and rent it from him," said the widow.

"Yes," answered her white slave.

"And the next thing you do will be to go and buy the furniture necessary
to fit up one room for yourself, and have it taken out there and
arranged."

"Yes," he answered again, very submissively.

"That will take you nearly all day, I think."

"I will hurry through the business as fast as I can, so that I may see
you the sooner. When can I see you to-morrow?" he pleaded.

"At seven o'clock to-morrow evening wait for me at the haunted house. I
will come and stay with you there until eleven."

"Oh, that is so long to wait! May I not see you sooner?"

"Impossible! I have a sacred duty to do to-morrow that will engage me
all day. But you too will be busy. And we can look forward all day to
our meeting in the evening. And after to-morrow we can meet every
morning and spend the whole day together," said the traitress, sweetly.

"I suppose I must be content!" sighed the victim.

"Now good-night, dear. And good-bye until to-morrow night," murmured the
siren, as she gave her lover a Judas kiss and dismissed him.

Mary Grey hurried into the drawing-room, where the Misses Crane were
still sitting up.

"My dear Mrs. Grey, we feared that something had happened to you," said
the elder Miss Crane.

"Oh, no! I went to see one of my Sunday-school pupils, whom I missed
from my class, and whom, upon inquiry, I found to be ill at home. I have
spent the whole day with the sick child, except the hours spent at
church. And I must go to see her again to-morrow morning," said the
widow, with a patient smile.

"How good you are!" murmured Miss Crane.

Mary Grey shook her head deprecatingly, bowed good-night to the slim
sisters and went upstairs to her own room.

Early the next morning Mary Grey, telling her hostesses that she was
then going to sit with the sick child, left the old manor-house and
walked rapidly to the railway station and took a ticket for Forestville,
a village about twenty miles from the city, on the Richmond and Wendover
Railroad.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

A HAPPY LOVER.

The lover is a king; the ground
He treads on is not ours;
His soul by other laws is bound,
Sustained by o