The Portland daily press., 1874-05-02

| sive recollection came over him; he listeu.d,
| and with an exclamation of dsmay he seized
| his hat and ran out of the house. But too
late; at the same moment quick, nervous
footsteps was heard upon the veranda, the
French window flew opon, and with light
laugh of greeting Ridgeway stepped into the
room.
! Jenny's finer ear first caught the step,
! Jenny's swiiter feelings had sounded the
| depths OF hope, of joy, of despair, before he
entered the room. Jenny's pale face was
the only one that met his, self-possessed and
| self-reliant, when he stood before them. An
angry flush suffused even the pink roots of
| RANGES beard as he rose to his feet; an omi-
| nous fire sprang into Ridgeway's eyes, and a
spasm of hate and scorn passed over the
lower part of his face and lett the mouth and
jaw immobe and rigid.
Yet he was the first to speak. 81 owe you
an apology" he said to Jenny, with suave
scorn that brought the indignant blood back
to her cheek, flor this intrusion, but ask no
pardon for Withdrawing from the only spot
where that man dare confront me with safe
ty.'
With an exclamation of rage, Rance sprang
toward him. But as quickly Jenny stood be-
tween them, erect and menacing ''There
must be no quarrel here" she said to Rance.
while protect your right as my guest, don't
obhge me to remind you of mine as your
hostess" She turned with half-deprecatory
air to Ridgeway, but he was gone. So was
her father Only Rance remained, with
look ofill-concealed triumph on his face.
Without looking at him she passed toward
the door. When she reached it she turned
''You asked me a question an hour ago.
Come to me in the garden at nine O'Clock to-
night and L will answer you. But promise
me first to keep away from Mr. Dent; give me
your word not to seek him-to avoid him if
he seeks you. Do you promise? 1t IS WELL"
He would have taken her hand, but she
waved him away. In another moment he
heard the swift rustic of her dress in the hall,
the sound of her feet upon the stair, the sharp
closing of her bedroom door, and all was
quiet.
And even thus quietly the day wore away
and the night rose slowly from the valley and
oveIshadowed the mountains with purple
wings that famed the still air into a breeze,
until the moon followed it and lulled every,
thing to rest as with the laying Oh of white
and benedictory hands. 1t was lovely night,
but Henry Rance, waitingimpatiently beneath
sycamore at the foot of the garden, saw no
beauty in earth or air or sky. A thousand
sucpicions common to jealous nature, a
vague superstition of the spot, filled his mind
with dstrust and doubt. 1T this should be
trick to keep my hands off that insolent
pup! ne muttered, but even as the thought
pIs, Id us tongue, white figure slid fIom The
Ii;n l near the house, slided along the
me picket fence, and then stopped, midway,
motlonless IN tie moonlight.
LII was she. But he scarcely recoon;zad
her in the white drapery that coverei her
head, and shoulders, and breast He an-
preached her With hurried whisper. "Let
us withdraw from the moonlight. Eve,v'
body can see us here"
''We have nothing to say that cannot he
said in moonlight, Henry Rance" she repl-
ed, coldly receding from his profered hand.
She tremblod for a moment, as if with a chill,
aud then suddenly turned upon him: Hold