And as the two girls got beyond the sight and hearing of Mr. Moore, Lucy turned to her companion, saying: “What do you think of our invalid, as we often laughingly call him when we want to tease him? Do you think him good-looking?” “He is more than that, Lucy,” returned Jess, gravely. “He is simply splendid! I know of no word which will express it. We have just such a pictured face hanging up in the library of Blackheath Hall, and it is named ‘Apollo Belvidere,’ who is supposed to be the perfection of manly beauty, so the legend runs which tells about him in old books.” “You have fallen in love with him at first sight!” cried Lucy, in terror, her heart sinking and a stifling sensation creeping up to her throat. Jess laughed a strange, little laugh. Stopping short in the path, she suddenly threw her arms about Lucy’s neck, saying, with a laugh which was almost a sob: “I never had a girl friend or a girl companion to make a confidant of in all my life, and I would so love to make a confidant of you, Lucy; may I? There’s something that I would love to tell you, if you would never, never tell--never breathe one word of it to any living soul in the whole wide world.” “Of course you can make a confidant of me, and tell me all the secrets you have, and I’ll never tell them,” declared Lucy, solemnly. “You can depend upon me. I’ve kept lots of girls’ secrets, and never told one of them yet; I would not be so mean.” “Well, then, Lucy,” cried Jess, half laughing, half sobbing, “I couldn’t fall in love with your Mr. Moore if I liked him ever so much, for I’m engaged to be married to another gentleman, and--and it’s to take place--the wedding, I mean--just as soon as I come back from the visit to the Trevalyns, of New York. I never intended to tell anybody that I was an engaged girl, but, somehow, Lucy, you have wrung the truth from me in spite of myself, it seems.” “How delightful, and how romantic!” exclaimed Lucy, clapping her hands. “You must confide to me just how it seems to be--engaged. I’ve wondered about it so much.” Jess determined to tell her new-found friend all about her betrothal, and how it came about, and also to confide to her the terrible secret that was gnawing her heart out, like a worm in the bud; that she hated the man, handsome though he was, to whom she had sent the note of acceptance just before she had started away on her trip, in accordance with the wishes of Mrs. Bryson, who had concluded that it was wisest and best to nail Jess down with a solemn promise, by post, which had been duly forwarded to the expectant lover at New Orleans on the morning on which Jess had left Blackheath Hall. Yes, Jess concluded to tell Lucy all about it, but that could wait until after she had her bonnet off and had been in the house an hour, at least.