"Yes," returned Walter, "I remember your father told me once that she had set her heart upon your marrying him." "People would think it a splendid match," returned Jessie, a little mischievously, for as she had known that William disliked Walter, so she now felt that Walter disliked William, and she continued: "Charlotte Reeves would give the world to have him spend a week in the country with her," and the saucy black eyes looked roguishly up at Walter, who frowned gloomily for an instant, and then rejoined: "Shall I tell you what your father said about it?" "Yes, do. I think everything of his opinion." "He said, then, that he would rather see you buried than the wife of any of that race," and Walter laid a great stress upon the last two words. For a time Jessie walked on in silence, then stopping short and looking up from under her straw hat, she said: "Ain’t _you_ one of that race?" "I suppose I am," answered Walter, smiling at a question which admitted of two or three significations. Jessie thought of but one. Her father liked Walter very much, even though his mother was a Bellenger; consequently it must be something about William himself which prompted that remark, and as Jessie usually echoed her father’s sentiments, she felt, the old disagreeable sensation giving way, and before they reached the farm-house she was chatting as gayly with Walter, as if nothing had ever come between them. That night Walter and Jessie sat together in the little portico, which was securely shaded from the sun by Aunt Debby’s thrifty hop vines. Walter was telling Jessie of his recent visit, and how his grandfather cried when he stood in the room where he was married nearly fifty years before. "I supposed old people outlived all their romance," said Jessie, adding laughingly, as she plucked the broad green leaves growing near her head, "I don’t think I could love any body but father fifty years,—could you?" "It would depend a good deal upon the person I loved," returned Walter, and the look he gave Jessie seemed to say that it would not be a hard matter to love her through all time. Jessie saw the look, and while it thrilled her with a sudden emotion of pleasure, it involuntarily reminded her of what William had said of the valedictory, and abruptly changing the conversation she said: "Mr. Bellenger told me your speech was very good. May I see it for myself?" Walter was a fine orator, and knew that the favor with which his speech had been received was in a great measure owing to the manner in which it was delivered. He was willing for Jessie to have heard it, but he felt a natural reluctance in permitting her to read it. Jessie saw his hesitancy, and it strengthened the suspicion which before had hardly existed.