So he resolved not to call at Mr. Graham’s that night, and in case an explanation should afterward be necessary, he would say that he had sent the note by a boy, who, of course, had neglected to deliver it. Accordingly the next morning Walter and his grandmother waited impatiently for Jessie at the depot, and then, when they found she was not coming, took their seats in the cars with heavy hearts, for both knew how terrible would be the disappointment to Ellen, who loved Jessie Graham better almost than herself. ———— "Where’s Jessie? Didn’t I hear her voice in the other room?" the sick girl asked, when, one after the other, Mrs. Bellenger and Walter bent over her pillow and kissed her wasted face. "She isn’t here," said Walter, and the color faded from Ellen’s face as she replied: "Isn’t here? Where is she, Walter?" He answered that he did not see her himself, but had sent the message by William, and at the mention of his name the blood came surging back to the pallid cheeks. "William would carry the note, I know," she said, "and why does she stay away when I want so much to see her before I die?" And turning her face to the wall, she wept silently over her friend’s apparent neglect. "Walter," said Mrs. Bellenger, drawing him aside, "it may be possible there is some mistake, and Jessie does not know. Suppose you telegraph to her father and be sure." Walter immediately acted upon this suggestion, and that evening as Jessie sat listlessly drumming her piano, wondering why Walter seemed so changed, and wishing somebody would come, she received the telegram, and with feverish impatience waited for the morning, when she set off for Deerwood, where she was hailed with rapture by Ellen, who could now only whisper her delight and press the hands of her early friend. "Why didn’t you come with Walter?" she asked, and Jessie replied: "How could I, when I knew nothing of his coming?" "Didn’t William give you a note?" asked Walter, who was standing near, and upon Jessie’s replying that she had neither seen nor heard from William, a sudden suspicion crossed his mind that the message had purposely been withheld. No such thought, however, intruded itself upon Ellen; the neglect was not intentional, she was sure; and in her joy at having Jessie with her at last, she forgot her earlier disappointment. Earnestly and lovingly she looked up into Jessie’s bright, glowing face, and, pushing back her short black curls, whispered: "Darling Jessie, I am glad you are so beautiful, so good." And Jessie, listening to these oft-repeated words did not dream of the pure, unselfish love which prompted them. If Jessie were beautiful and good, she would make the life of William Bellenger happier than if she were otherwise; and this was all that Ellen asked or wished.