The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1880-03-18

looked little disturbed. He spoke
pcremptorily, to leave her no room for
thought, or settling beforehand what
she was to say. Il want to know if
you have lodger-a lady living in
your house?"
Mrs. Ferney's countenance grew
more disturbed than ever. well, sir
no, Mr. Edmund, I've got no lodger.
There's Ferney's niece staying on a
visit"
rs that your niece sitting in the
room on the right hand?" When Ed
mund said this, chair was hastily
drawn back out of'his range Of vision,
and a voice said, La
II mean a totally different person,
he cried, with little impatience: "a
lady; very young; very slight; with
blue eyes; in white dress. and some
thing black round her shoulders.
Mrs. Ferney was gazing at him with
wide-open eyes, but a visible air Of re-
lief mo, indeed, sir; nothing of the
sort. Not soul lives here but Fer
ney and me, and, for the present, Ada
Jane"
Where, then, can she live?" he
said half to himself. Mrs. Ferney
thought he had taken leave of his
senses. She stood and gazed at him
with bewildered looks, making curt
sey, and much relieved to see that he
was not latter Ada Jane Edmund
walked away without so much as a
glance at the window where Ada Jane
was lurking expectant He went to
the village where he walked about, not
knowing what to do, looking in at
every window. He could not stop
everybody he met there to ask them
did they know where he could find a
lady with blue eyes and in white
gown. He did the only other thing
that was practicable in the circum-
stances. He went to see the rector,
whom he asked that question, and to
whom he told his little story. The
rector was a young man, and he was
sympathetic. He thought Of all the
ladies within twenty miles, and de-
scribed them, without finding any one
who at all resembled the lady whom
Edmund sought. Besides the
young enquirer had still so much rea-
son left in him as to say, what would
it advantage me if Miss Ingestree, who
lives fifteen miles off, were like her?
Miss Ingestree would not come here
and wander about the lime-tree walk" !"
So that nothing was to be made of it
in any direction. When he left the
rectory the short afternoon was begin
ming to wane. He saw nobody along
all the length Of the way, and when
he came to the door in the wall found
it locked; evidently she had not passed
that way to-day.
1t was again a misty afternoon; the
sun yelled in clouds. Edmund went
down by the path that led towards
Ferney's, and got across the brook and
round by the corner Of the house,
which was way practicable to one
who had been boy there, and knew
all about the surroundings and by
ways Of the place What he meant
was to hurry round to the conserva-
tories, in which he was likely to find
the head gardener, and get the key
from him. What if she should come
to her favorite walk. and find it closed
against her? He was breathless with
haste scrambling up the bank, rushing
along at his most rapid pace, lest this
foolish obstacle should prevent their
meeting, when suddenly, in the midst
of his excitement, all at once his heart
stood still In spite of the locked
door, she was standing there. It was
oo,,l:o,, 4l,,, I,o Lol oI,o,. coo,, lo,. h.
fore His heart stopped short, then
leaped into wilder beating than ever.
He did not ask himself how she got
through. Why should he think Of
any such trivial obstacle? She was
there, that was all he thought of; and
this time it was evident that she was
looking for him. She waved her hand
to him with the prettiest gesture. She
was standing against the pedestal, her
white dress standing out from that
background. He noticed for the first
time how white and pure was the full
ness of the founce where it fell upon
the grass, without a mark Oh it of the
wetness around. This eemed to him
quite natural, an exquisite quality,
somehow, in herself, which kept
everything about her white and pure
Il was going" he said, flushed and
eager, ito get the key. | thought
YOU would wonder to find it shut
But you came through before it was
shut, | suppose"
She smiled. It seemed t. be rule
with her to answer none Of his ques-
tions. She looked at him with a sort
of innocent admiration, mixed with
the pleasure in her face 1T is so
long since | have spoken to any one
since [ have seen any one run to meet
me-" she said. Il wonder how it is
that you, out of them all -
Yes" he said, taking up her words,
That is what | cannot understand,
how |, of all the people in Daintrey,
should have been so happy as TO meet
you. We are like old friends now, are
we not? we have seen each other SO
often. am Edmund Coventry, once
Sir Roberts ward, and free of the
house. Might [ ask your name?'
There was no embarrassment in her
face. From first to last she was never
embarrassed, but always full of sweet
composure: and her smile seemed to
express d hundred different feelings.
There was amusement in it, and lit
tie regret, and always that af1ectionate
pleasure. Il was Maud, she said,
quite simply. Edmund could not un-
derstand why she should put her name
in the past tense, and it gave him a
subtle little thrill Of pain, he could
scarcely tell why.
"Maud-it is the very sweetest
name" he said, with a half-adoring
passion; but what else? You will
not let me say Maud. Tell me your