And thus, while Jacquelina fancied she had a new admirer, Dr. Grimshaw feared that he had a new rival, and the holy fathers hoped they had a new convert--Thurston laughed at the vanity of the elf, the jealousy of the Ogre, and the gullibility of the priests--and sought only escape from the haunting memory of Marian, and found it not. And finally, bored and ennuied beyond endurance, he cast about for a plan by which to hasten his union with Marian. Perhaps it was only that neighborhood she was afraid of, he thought--perhaps in some other place she would be less scrupulous. Satan had no sooner whispered this thought to Thurston's ear than he conceived the design of spending the ensuing autumn in Paris--and of making Marian his companion while there. Fired with this new idea and this new hope, he sat down and wrote her a few lines--without address or signature--as follows: "Dearest, forgive all the past. I was mad and blind. I have a plan to secure at once our happiness. Meet me in the Mossy dell this evening, and let me explain it at your feet." Having written this note, Thurston scarcely knew how to get it at once into Marian's hands. To put it into the village post-office was to expose it to the prying eyes of Miss Nancy Skamp. To send it to Old Fields, by a messenger, was still more hazardous. To slip it into Marian's own hand, he would have to wait the whole week until Sunday--and then might not be able to do so unobserved. Finally, after much thought, he determined, without admitting the elf into his full confidence, to entrust the delivery of the note to Jacquelina. He therefore copied it into the smallest space, rolled it up tightly, and took it with him when he went to Luckenough. He spent the whole afternoon at the mansion house, without having an opportunity to slip it into the hands of Jacquelina. It is true that Mrs. Waugh was not present, that good woman being in the back parlor, sitting at one end of the sofa and making a pillow of her lap for the commodore's head, which she combed soporifically, while, stretched at full length, he took his afternoon nap. But Mary L'Oiseau was there, quietly knotting a toilet cover, and Professor Grimshaw was there, scowling behind a book that he was pretending to read, and losing no word or look or tone or gesture of Thurston or Jacquelina, who talked and laughed and flirted and jested, as if there was no one else in the world but themselves. At last a little negro appeared at the door to summon Mrs. L'Oiseau to give out supper, and Mary arose and left the room. The professor scowled at Jacquelina from the top of his book for a little while, and then, muttering an excuse, got up and went out and left them alone together. That was a very common trick of the doctor's lately, and no one could imagine why he did it.