Accordingly, the doctor left Hugh Stanton’s rooms at the hotel for the hospitality of Horton’s Grove, where he might be with Ethel. Hugh was filled with a keen sense of loneliness when Jack drove away with his fiancie. Her tender eyes shone with a new light when in Jack Redfield’s presence. She coaxingly told Hugh that he must come over to the Grove every day, and, if he did not, they would surely send for him. When they were gone, Hugh turned back to his room, marveling at the transformation in Ethel. Her cheeks glowed with the pink tinge of ruddy health and her lips were like well-ripened cherries, while the whole expression of her youthful face was one of contentment and of hope. “Love is a wonderful thing,” said he, as he stood by the window watching the carriage containing Jack and Ethel drive away toward the country. He sighed, muttered something to himself, and turned from the window. “After all,” said he, aloud, “marriage is a mystery, the prelude an illusion decked with ribbons of flattery, the awakening an introduction to the real, where the happiness of each hangs upon the caprice of both; while life, at best, is only a straw blown about on the surface of chance, with the devil ever standing near, beckoning us on to a labyrinth of confusion and misery.” Then he thought of Ethel’s fair hand, which he had so recently held in his own, and there crept into his soul, as the fanning breath of springtime, a feeling of reverence, loyalty and respect. The next morning, as Hugh was walking down the street, he met Marie Hampton. A rich color mounted her cheek at their meeting. “You are quite a stranger,” said she, smiling pleasantly. “We have not seen you at our home for more than a week, and papa says you have ceased calling at the Patriot office, altogether.” “A friend has been visiting me,” replied Hugh, “and I have given him considerable of my time, but that’s over with now,” said he, with a sigh, “and I shall hope to see more of you and your father, too.” “Oh, has he gone away so soon?” asked Marie. “No,” replied Hugh, moodily, “but he does not need me any longer.” “Indeed?” said Marie, and there was an interrogative accent in her voice. “Yes,” replied Hugh, nervously. “Come, I will walk with you and tell you a romance.” They turned down the street toward Major Hampton’s home, and, as they walked along, Hugh told Marie of Jack Redfield’s love affair. “Oh, how romantic!” she exclaimed, when he had finished. “Just like a story in a novel. I am impatient to see Ethel and this hero of hers.” They had reached Marie’s home, and she was standing on the veranda, leaning her pretty head, with its wealth of bronzed hair, against one of the supports. Her eyes were resting radiantly on Hugh’s face. “I doubt not,” Hugh was saying, “that they are very happy, and I presume it is only a question of time until we shall lose Ethel.”