Putting his hands suddenly on her shoulders, he stooped, looked keenly at her, and she heard him mutter an oath. When he spoke again it was through set teeth: "You will be wise if you adhere to that decision. Tell them at home not to wait supper for me." He sprang into his saddle and rode toward the village; and Edna hurried homeward, asking herself: "What first took Mr. Murray to the blacksmith's hovel? Why is he so anxious that his visits should remain undiscovered? After all, is there some latent nobility in his character? Is he so much better or worse than I have thought him? Perhaps his love for Gertrude has softened his heart, perhaps that love may be his salvation. God grant it! God grant it!" The evening breeze rose and sang solemnly through the pine trees, but to her it seemed only to chant the melancholy refrain, "My pretty Gertrude, my pretty Gertrude." The chill light of stars fell on the orphan's pathway, and over her pale features, where dwelt the reflection of a loneliness--a silent desolation, such as she had never realized, even when her grandfather was snatched from her clinging arms. She passed through the orchard, startling a covey of partridges that nestled in the long grass, and a rabbit that had stolen out under cover of dusk; and when she came to the fountain, she paused and looked out over the dark, quiet grounds. Hitherto duty had worn a smiling, loving countenance, and walked gently by her side as she crossed the flowery vales of girlhood; now, the guide was transformed into an angel of wrath, pointing with drawn sword to the gate of Eden. As the girl's light fingers locked themselves tightly, her beautiful lips uttered mournfully: "What hast thou done, O soul of mine That thou tremblest so? Hast thou wrought His task, and kept the line He bade thee go? Ah! the cloud is dark, and day by day I am moving thither: I must pass beneath it on my way-- God pity me! Whither?" When Mrs. Murray went to her own room later than usual that night, she found Edna sitting by the table, with her Bible lying open on her lap, and her eyes fixed on the floor. "I thought you were fast asleep before this. I sat up waiting for St. Elmo, as I wished to speak to him about some engagements for to-morrow." The lady of the house threw herself wearily upon the lounge, and sighed as she unclasped her bracelets and took off the diamond cross that fastened her collar. "Edna, ring for Hagar." "Will you not let me take her place to-night? I want to talk to you before I go to sleep." "Well, then, unlace my gaiters and take down my hair. Child, what makes you look so very serious?" "Because what I am about to say saddens me very much. My dear Mrs. Murray, I have been in this house five peaceful, happy, blessed years; I have become warmly attached to everything about the home where I have been so kindly sheltered during my girlhood, and the thought of leaving it is exceedingly painful to me."