hour came; the passengers re-entered the coach;
Bill had mounted the box, and was slowly gathering his reins, when a
shrill voice rose from the porch.

"Oh, Jeff!"

Jeff leaned an anxious face out over the coach lamps.

It was Aunt Sally, breathless and on tiptoe, reaching with a letter.
"Suthin' you forgot!" Then, in a hoarse stage whisper, perfectly audible
to every one: "From HER!"

Jeff seized the letter with a burning face. The whip snapped, and the
stage plunged forward into the darkness. Presently Yuba Bill reached
down, coolly detached one of the coach lamps, and handed it to Jeff
without a word.

Jeff tore open the envelope. It contained Cyrus Parker's bill receipted,
and the writ. Another small inclosure contained ten dollars, and a few
lines written in pencil in a large masculine business hand. By the light
of the lamp Jeff read as follows:--

"I hope you will forgive me for having tried to help you even in this
accidental way, before I knew how strong were your objections to help
from me. Nobody knows this but myself. Even Mr. Dodd thinks my father
advanced the money. The ten dollars the rascal would have kept, but I
made him disgorge it. I did it all while you were looking for the letter
in the woods. Pray forget all about it, and any pain you may have had
from J. M."

Frank and practical as this letter appeared to be, and, doubtless, as
it was intended to be by its writer, the reader will not fail to notice
that Miss Mayfield said nothing of having overheard Jeff's quarrel with
the deputy, and left him to infer that that functionary had betrayed
him. It was simply one of those unpleasant details not affecting the
result, usually overlooked in feminine ethics.

For a moment Jeff sat pale and dumb, crushed under the ruins of his
pride and self-love. For a moment he hated Miss Mayfield, small and
triumphant! How she must have inwardly laughed at his speech that
morning! With what refined cruelty she had saved this evidence of his
humiliation, to work her vengeance on him now. He could not stand it!
He could not live under it! He would go back and sell the house--his
clothes--everything--to pay this wicked, heartless, cruel girl, that was
killing--yes, killing--

A strong hand took the swinging-lantern from his unsteady fingers, a
strong hand possessed itself of the papers and Miss Mayfield's note, a
strong arm was drawn around him,--for his figure was swaying to and fro,
his head was giddy, an