At Dora’s heart there was a constant dread of some impending evil, and when, three weeks after Margaret’s death, she stood one night alone with Dr. West, listening to his farewell, she felt again a longing to throw herself on his protection, and thus she might be saved from danger. But the doctor, though treating her with the utmost tenderness, had never broached the subject of his love since that time at Anna’s grave, where she answered him so indifferently. Her foolish words had hurt him more since than they did then, causing him sometimes to wonder if she did really care for him. If not, or if the germ of her affection was as yet very small, it was better not to press the matter, but let it take its course; and so, trusting that absence would do all that he wished done, he only said good-by as he would have said it to a dear sister, and hardly so, for when he would have kissed the sister, he left Dora unkissed, fancying she would be better pleased with such a parting. His caresses had wearied Anna, and he would not err this way again, so he never touched the lips which would have paid him back so gladly, but merely pressed the little hand which trembled in his, as he said to her, “A year is not very long, Dora. It will pass sooner than we think, and you must not forget me.” Another pressure of the hand, and he was gone, leaving the maiden far more desolate than he dreamed. Could he have known how fast the tears came, when alone in her room she went over with the parting and said to herself, “He does not love me now. My waywardness has sickened him;” could he have seen her when in the early dawn she watched him as he left the house for the last time, he would have turned back, and by taking her with him, or staying himself with her, would have saved her from the dark storm which would bear her down with its mighty force. But this he did not know, and he went his way to Morrisville, where his mother waited for him, and where Jessie, just returned from Saratoga, sparkled, and flashed, and flitted around him, asking him to write occasionally to her father, and tell them of California. “Why not write to _you_?” he replied, and Jessie responded at once: “To me, then, if you like; I shall be delighted.”