than tell the tale of her folly. Yet--oh, what _was_ she to do? Quick! Time was flying on its swiftest wings. He might be there at any moment. Oh, would no one save her? While she was still hoping and praying and despairing, no conclusion reached, no aiding hand outstretched for her deliverance, the day advanced toward its end; the sun sank lower and still lower upon the ridge of those long, darkly-wooded hills to the westward, shed its last red rays upon the ocean, reflected its dying brilliancy upon the fleecy clouds above, and soon left nothing but a fading twilight to show men their way about the world. To a man seeking unknown objects in a hitherto unexplored vicinity this condition of affairs is unpropitious; but Dudley, having tied his hired steed to a neighboring fence, concluded nevertheless not to be daunted, and proceeded on foot in search of the "new-fangled, sorter yaller-and-red, p'inted-roofed house," where the village postmaster had told him the lady whom he sought resided. It was not difficult to find: it was the only thing for miles around that laid any claims to "new-fangledness," and he recognized it at a glance. From behind the hedge that bordered the place he scrutinized each window. No smiling face appeared to welcome him. He scanned the lawn, the shrubbery, the dark shade beneath the trees: no girlish figure could be seen to answer to the one he carried in his mind. "Perhaps my letter hasn't reached her," was his disappointed soliloquy. Then followed a few moments of silent thought. Suddenly he pulled himself together, put on a bold front, stalked manfully up to the porch, and rang the bell determinedly. When a man in brass buttons appeared to answer his summons, Dudley felt decidedly more reassured, and his previous fears of being greeted with a countryman's heavy boot were agreeably dispelled. "Is Miss Jennings in?" he asked, feeling for his card-case. James stared. "Beg pardon, sir?" "Miss Jennings,--Miss Jane Jennings," he repeated, with emphasis. James surveyed the visitor from his jaunty straw hat to his neat patent-leathers, cast a queer look at the crocodile card-case, replied, "Humph! I'll see," and shut the door in his face. "Infernal impudence, by Jove!" exclaimed Dudley, in wrath. "Does the dolt take me for a tramp?" There was nothing for it, however, but to wait where he was, which he did with bad grace enough until he heard a hand upon the inner knob and saw the door slowly open, to disclose the generous proportions of Mabel's maid. "The old woman, by the gods!" he whispered, in dismay. "I called--" he began. "Yes, sir," replied Jane, in a flutter of excitement. "I called--er--I have the pleasure of addressing Mrs. Jennings, I presume?" "_Miss_ Jennings,--Jane Jennings," she corrected, and blushing at the title.