On the evening of that last day, when all the sorrowful farewells were over, and the grief stricken family had returned to their saddened home; there came a stranger into Canfield, and after inquiring the way, stalked briskly out to the Dering house. All the heavy foliage being gone, Jean saw him coming through the gate, and turned from the window. "Some one is coming, Olive," and Olive reached the door, just as the stranger gave a vain pull at the muffled bell. He was a strange, odd looking old gentleman, erect as a picket, scrupulously dressed, and looking at her with fierce grey eyes from under the bushiest lashes. "Is Mrs. Dering in?" he inquired with a tap of his cane. "Yes, sir, but----," "Well, that's all I want to know now, I'll ask the rest after I get in," and emphasizing the words with another sharp tap of his cane, in he walked. "But, sir, my mother cannot see you to-night," said Olive, somewhat startled, but speaking with decision, and still holding the door open. "Tut, tut, tut! I haven't come three hundred miles to be turned out into the night. Come, come, young woman, lead the way to where there's a fire and light, then take this card to your mother, and if she won't see me, give me a good comfortable bed, and I'll wait 'till morning for her." Olive began to feel as though she had little to say in the matter, besides, he stamped his cane and looked at her so fiercely, that she thought he might be an escaped lunatic, and perhaps she had better humor him. So she led the way into the sitting room, poked the fire till it glowed brightly, then the old gentleman sat down, but jerked his head around quickly as the sound of Jean's retiring crutch fell on his ear. "Ha, hum; come here little girl;" and his voice sharp and rough, softened wonderfully; but Jean only lifted her tear-stained pale little face, for an instant, then vanished; whereupon he pulled out a scarlet silk handkerchief, and blew his nose fiercely, then turned to Olive as if he expected to demolish her instantly with the card in his fingers. "Here girl, take that to your mother and be quick." Olive took it and unconsciously dropped her eyes to the name-- "ROGER RIDLEY CONGREVE." Even the old gentleman started as she looked up, for pale as her face had been before, it was positively ashy now, and her eyes glared at him like a young lioness at bay. Somewhat amazed the old man rose and approached her; but she started back, threw the card at his feet, crying chokingly with a frantic gesture of her hands: "Go away, go away, don't touch me,--oh, how I hate you!" and vanished through the door as if she had been shot. "God bless my soul!" cried the astonished man, dropping into his chair and apostrophizing the fire with startled energy. "If I ever saw the like,--where's my snuff-box,--I never did to be sure; streak of insanity, must be attended to; fine eyes, but ferocious young woman; hum, ha!--I'll sit here till somebody comes."