Had it not been for his cruel lesson in that unhappy past, he might have looked with favor upon the girl whom his uncle picked out for him to wed--might even have learned to care for her, though she was little more than a child, while he was a man of the world, too used to finding all things different from what they appeared on the surface. A week passed, and during that time he was thrown constantly into the companionship of Jess. To him she was nothing more than an innocent, young girl, a very happy, thoughtless child; one who would grow, perhaps, in the years to come, into a very interesting woman. Further than that, his thoughts regarding Jess never traveled. He remained at the farm simply because the cause which would have taken him down to Louisiana--to see this selfsame little Jess--was now removed. He had now no need to go to the mountain, as it were, for the mountain had come to him. He wondered idly at the interest the girl seemed to take in his society, with never a thought as to whether he was rich or poor. But, then, she was very young; all such worldly knowledge as to the importance of making a good match--that is, marrying a man who had money--would come to her later. And at the thought a bitter smile curved his lips, a smile accompanied by a heavy sigh. CHAPTER XXIII. VAIN REGRETS. “Ah, they know not heart Of man or woman who declare That love needs time to do or dare. His altars wait--not day nor name-- Only the touch of sacred flame.” The week which follows the advent of Jess to the old farmhouse Mr. Moore will never forget. It is a changed place. Lucy Caldwell, the farmer’s daughter, is a quiet girl, quite as ladylike as many a city-bred, boarding-school miss. But Jess is decidedly the reverse. She bounds up and down the carpetless stairs, three steps at a time, whistles ear-splitting snatches of coon songs, as she describes them to Lucy, bangs doors and romps about to her heart’s content, all of which indicates that she is perfectly happy. She is so content in the old farmhouse that she does not care if the Trevalyns never return to their home. She could stay at the farm forever; yes, forever. She does not realize, child that she is, what causes her exuberance of spirits, what is it that makes her so wondrously joyous and contented. She only realizes that every hour of her life is filled with a new, sweet pleasure--the pleasure of being so much in the company of Mr. Moore. Jess’ first thought in the morning, upon waking, is of him, and her last thought at night, until she trails off into deep, healthful slumber, is of the handsome, kingly man who makes the days pass so delightfully for her. Mrs. Caldwell and her daughter note with alarm Jess’ fondness for Mr. Moore’s society, and comment on it in no kindly manner.