She chafed like an untamed cub at the confinement she was now undergoing, and of being thrust into stays and dainty dresses, and her feet into slippers, even though they were of a size the far-famed Cinderella herself might have envied. And the curls, which had always been allowed to blow about as they would, free from restraint as the breeze itself, did not take kindly to the jailer of a ribbon, and were constantly breaking forth in crinkling rings here and there, utterly defying detention. “I was in great fear that he would not take to Jess,” mused Mrs. Bryson, anxiously; “but now I know that that fear is groundless; she can be mistress of Blackheath Hall if she so wills it; and, no matter how obstinate she may be, I will see to it that she marries the young heir when he asks her. Dear, dear! what a wonderful difference fine clothes do make in the girl. I never knew before that she was positively beautiful; but such is actually the case. ‘Fine feathers make fine birds,’ most truly.” Mrs. Bryson had too much tact to ask Jess what she thought of the handsome young stranger, even when she found herself alone with the girl that night. Instead, she said, with a sigh: “Mr. Dinsmore is far more elegant than I thought he would be. I have little hope that you will ever reign mistress of this vast estate, for he would never think of falling in love with you, poor child.” “Nor would I ever fall in love with him,” retorted Jess, spiritedly; but all the same the words of the housekeeper rankled in her girlish heart for an hour or more after Mrs. Bryson had left her; in fact, until her dark, bright eyes closed in dreams. It was the first thought that occurred to Jess when she opened her eyes at the dawn of day the following morning. “If it were not for the trouble I would show Mrs. Bryson how mistaken she is,” Jess ruminated, as she made her simple toilet and hurried down into the grounds. Early as she was, to her great amazement she found Mr. Dinsmore already in the grounds, smoking a cigar as he paced restlessly to and fro. “What an unexpected pleasure, Miss Jess,” he cried, throwing away his cigar at once and advancing toward her. “I hardly hoped for so agreeable a surprise. Usually young girls are not visible much before noon--those whom I have met in the world of fashion.” “Then I should not like to belong to the world of fashion,” declared Jess, “for the early morning has a charm for me which no other part of the day can equal. I had almost forgotten to give you the letter which Toby just brought up from the village post office for you, Mr. Dinsmore.” As he took it from her hand, and his eye fell upon the chirography, a chalky, ashen color overspread his face, and he started violently. Even before he opened it, he had an intuition of what it contained, and he muttered to himself: “I have not time to waste--I must marry this girl and collect all the funds possible without delay. And after that--well, let the future look out for itself!”