“I hope you will never regret the action, Jess. Always remember that in asking you to marry me I was studying your best interest, as you will understand when you are old enough to realize all.” “Jess! Jess! where are you?” cries Lucy’s voice, from down the path; “Jess! Jess!” “Go to her, and say nothing of what has transpired,” whispers “Mr. Moore,” releasing her hands and pushing her from him. “I will see you here early to-morrow morning, and will have arranged everything by that time. Good-night, Jess!” He made no attempt to stoop and kiss the lovely, young face turned so expectantly up to him; indeed, it never occurred to him to do so. Another instant and the slim figure was hurrying down the path in the direction of Lucy’s high-pitched voice. “Mr. Moore” stood with folded arms, looking after her. There was no lover-like ardor in his breast; no passionate thrill of triumph filled his heart to think that he had won so lovely a young creature; only a sort of weary, stoical resignation, with the thought surging through his brain that he had sacrificed himself upon the altar of stern duty. In fact, he pitied himself when he thought of what was before him; but it never occurred to him to pity the girl, who was far more to be pitied, in all her fresh, young bloom and trustful innocence. Even Lucy wondered at the expression of Jess’ face when she entered the house, where the bright rays of the lamp fell full upon it, for there was a glory on it that made her companion marvel. She could not help thinking of her mother’s comparison, in speaking of Jess, that she always looked like a blushing rose. Surely, she looked it to-night, with that vivid crimson bathing her cheeks and brow. “I want to help you to pack, Jess,” she said; “you forget you are to take the noon train, and there is always so much to attend to at the last moment.” “How good you are, Lucy,” said Jess, laying her soft, warm cheek against her companion’s. “You are tired, while I have done nothing the livelong day; I should not let you add to your weariness the packing of my trunk.” “It will be a pleasure for me to do it for you,” declared Lucy. She did not add that she would not know a happy moment until Jess, with her pretty, dimpled face and starry eyes, was well away from the farm, and the presence of Mr. Moore. In an incredible space of time the little trunk was packed by Lucy’s nimble hands; then it was time to retire, and for the second time in her young life Jess was unable to sleep. For hours she thought of the wonderful thing that had happened--Mr. Moore had asked her to be his wife, and she had said “Yes,” and to-morrow morning he would tell her what his plans were regarding it.