The moon by this time had reached a point high up in the heavens, and bidding him good night she left him sitting there alone, dreaming bright dreams of the future, when the little hand which not long ago had crept of its own accord into his own, should be his indeed. But what if it should never be proved that his father was innocent? Could he keep his promise forever? He dared not answer this, but there swept over him again, as it had done many times of late, the belief that ere a year had passed, Seth Marshall would stand before the world an honored and respected man. Until that time he was willing to wait, he said, and the moon had long since passed the zenith and was shining through the western window into the room where Jessie Graham lay sleeping ere he left his seat beneath the vines and sought his pillow to realize in dreamland the happiness in store for him. CHAPTER XII.—A CRISIS. The next morning, Mrs. Bellenger, Jessie and Walter returned to the city, the latter promising his family that he would if possible obtain leave of absence from his business for several weeks, and be with them in the first stages of their bereavement. To this plan Mr. Graham made no objection, and without seeing William, who chanced to be out of the city, Walter went back to Deerwood, while his grandmother also started on her projected visit to Boston. Lonely indeed was Walter’s life at the farm-house, and not even the cheering letters of Mr. Graham, which always contained a pleasant message from Jessie, had the power to enliven his solitude. He had tasted of the busy world, and a life of inactivity could not satisfy him now. So he wrote at last to Mr. Graham, asking why he could not start at once for California, instead of waiting until September. With a father’s ready tact, Mr. Graham understood exactly the nature of Walter’s feelings toward his daughter, and as Mrs. Bartow had told him of the young man’s promise, he watched him narrowly to see how well it would be kept. "He is a noble fellow," he thought, "and he shall not wait for what may never be. I am sure Jessie loves him quite as much as he does her, and I will bring them together in my own way, and when September comes he shall not go to California alone;" so in reply to Walter’s letter, he wrote: "You can go at once if you like, though I have in mind a pleasant surprise if you will wait until autumn," and as he wrote his own heart grew young and warm again, with fancying Walter’s joy when he should say to him, "I know your secret, and you need not wait. Jessie loves you. Take her and be happy." And as thoughts of his own daughter’s possible bridal suggested to him another, he dipped his pen a second time, and added as a postscript: "There is a rumor of a marriage to take place before long, and Jessie, I dare say, will wish you to be present, so perhaps you’d better wait."