"P.S.--I don't believe that t'other beau of yourn is none the happiest. They live with Miss Kelsey yet, but thar's a story round that she's a-gwine to marry again, and the man don't like De Vere, and won't have him thar, so if the doctor should run out, as I'm afraid he will, what'll them lazy critters do? Nellie's got to be kinder sozzlin' in her dress, and he has took to chawin' tobacker by the pound. They was here a spell ago, and deaf as I be, I hearn 'em have one right smart quarrel. He said she was slatterly, or somethin' like that, and she called him a fool, and said she 'most knew he wished he'd took you, blind as you was, and he said, kinder sorry-like, 'Maude would never of called me a fool, nor wore such holes in the heels of her stockin's.' I couldn't hear no more, but I knew by her voice that she was cryin', and when I went below and seen the doctor out behind the woodshed a-figgerin' up, says I to myself, `If I was a Univarselar, I should b'lieve they was all on 'em a-gittin' thar pay,' but bein' I'm a Methodis', I don't believe nothin'." This letter, which conveyed to Maude a tolerably correct idea of matters at home, will also show to the reader the state of feeling existing between J.C. and Nellie. They were not suited to each other, and though married but seven months, there had been many a quarrel besides the one which Hannah overheard. Nellie demanded of her husband more love than he had to bestow, and the consequence was, a feeling of bitter jealousy on her part and an increasing coldness on his. They were an ill-assorted couple, utterly incapable of taking care of themselves, and when they heard from Mrs. Kelsey that she really contemplated a second marriage, they looked forward to the future with a kind of hopeless apathy, wholly at variance with the feelings of the beautiful, dark-eyed Maude and the noble James De Vere. Their love for each other had increased each day, and their happiness seemed almost greater than they could bear on that memorable morn when the husband bent fondly over his young girl-wife, who laid a hand on each side of his face, and while the great tears rolled down her cheeks, whispered joyfully, "I can see you, darling; I can see!" CHAPTER XXI. HOME AGAIN. Little more than two years have passed away since the September afternoon when the deep-toned bell rang out the merry tidings, "Maude can see--Maude can see," and again upon the billow another vessel rides. But this time to the westward; and the beautiful lady, whose soft, dark eyes look eagerly over the wave says to her companion, "It is very pleasant going home."