It was the sound of horse’s feet, and as the sharp hoofs struck the earth with a rapidity which told how swiftly the rider came, Jessie’s heart beat faster with a feeling that she knew who the rider was. He passed them with averted face, and they heard the clatter of the iron shoes, as the steed dashed down the lane, over the rustic bridge, and up the grassy hillside. Jessie had not told the family the story which broke poor Nellie’s heart, for she would not inflict an unnecessary pang upon the mother, or the grandfather, but she wanted Walter to know it, and as the sound of the horse’s feet died away in the distance, she said to him: "Will you walk with me, Walter? It is so light and pleasant." It seemed a strange request to him, but he complied with it, and as if by mutual consent, the two went together, toward the grave, whither another had preceded them. In the city William had heard of the telegram sent to Jessie, and with a feeling of restless impatience, he at last took the cars, as far as the town adjoining Deerwood, where he stopped and heard of Ellen’s death. He heard, too, that she was buried that very afternoon, and his pulses quickened with a painful throb, as as he heard the landlord’s daughter, who had attended the funeral, telling her mother how beautiful the young girl was, all covered with flowers, and how Miss Graham from New York cried when she bent over the coffin. He would see her grave, he said, he would kiss the earth which covered her, and so when the "candle was lighted in her dear old home," he came, a weary, wretched man, and stood by the little mound. He had almost felt that he should find her there, just as she was that August afternoon, when she lay sleeping with the withered roses drooping on her face. She had told him of this hour, and bidden him pray when he stood so near to her, but he could not, and he only murmured through his tears: "Poor Nellie. She deserved a better fate. I wish I had never crossed her path." There were voices in the distance, and not caring to be found there, he knelt by the pile of earth, and burying his face in the dust, said aloud: "I wish that I were dead and happy as you are, little Snow Drop," then leaving the inclosure, he mounted his horse, and rode rapidly off, just as Walter and Jessie came up on the opposite side. "That was William Bellenger," Jessie cried. "I thought so when he passed the house, and I wanted so much to see him here by Ellen’s grave." "William Bellenger," Walter repeated. "Do you know why he was here?" "Yes, I do," Jessie answered, "and I wanted to reproach him with it. Walter, William Bellenger is a villain! "Sit down with me," she continued, "here, beside your mother’s grave, and Nellie’s, and listen while I repeat to you what Nellie told me just before she died." He obeyed, and in a voice of mingled sorrow and resentment, Jessie told him of the falsehood which had been imposed upon the gentle girl lying there so near them.