"Mildred is not at home," she said; "will not be until bedtime; but anything you choose to leave with me will be given her on her return." Rhoda Jane considered a moment. She felt a strong desire to deliver the note into Mildred's own hand, and to watch her while reading it; but should she carry it back Gote might change his mind and put off indefinitely this business which she was so desirous to have carried through at once. She left it, though with evident reluctance. She presently congratulated herself that she had done so. Gotobed, eagerly awaiting her return, peering anxiously every other minute through the smithy door, hailed her in breathless excitement. "Well, what--what did she--" "She wasn't there. She's gone out somewheres and won't be back till bedtime." "Give it to me then; quick!" and he held out his hand with a peremptory gesture. "I ain't got it," Rhoda Jane answered with a sardonic grin. "Where is it? you ain't gone and left it," he cried aghast. "Yes, I have; I give it to Mis' Keith." Gotobed groaned. "I'd thought better of it; I'd throw it in the fire this minute if I had it here. She'll think me a fool. I know she will!" "If she does she's one," returned Rhoda Jane shortly, and left him to his unavailing regrets. How they tortured him! how could he bear the suspense. Mildred was merciful and did not keep him in doubt any longer than necessary. He found a letter next morning, in the post-office, with his address upon it, written in a lady's delicate graceful hand. His heart seemed to jump into his mouth at the sight. He almost snatched it from the postmaster's hand, and without stopping to answer the jesting remark of that functionary on his sudden accession of color, hurried away, never stopping till he reached the privacy of his own room, thankful that he succeeded in doing so without being seen by any of the family. But now it was a full minute ere he could summon courage to open the missive and learn his fate. And even when it lay open before him he passed his hand several times across his eyes as if to clear his sight. Yet it was very plainly written;--also plainly expressed; a distinct, decided, though very kindly rejection of his suit; the only reason given that she could not love him and a loveless marriage could be fruitful of nothing but misery to both parties. [Illustration] [Illustration] Chapter Seventeenth. "The rose that all are praising Is not the rose for me." --BAYLIE. "GOTOBED LIGHTCAP, you're the biggest fool that ever was born!" exclaimed the young blacksmith, between his clenched teeth, throwing Mildred's dainty note upon the floor and grinding it with his heel, while the hot blood surged over his swarthy face, which expressed in every lineament intense mortification and chagrin. "You might 'a knowed the likes o' her couldn't never fancy sech a ungainly, know nothin' varmint as you be."