I walked slowly homeward, reflecting upon the events of the morning, and waiting, oh, how fervently! that Jessie Lee might learn to know young Bosworth as I did, and be able to shed a ray of light into the darkness wherein he had fallen. I left the path through the fields, and took my way into the woods, as I knew a short cut that would lead me more quickly into our grounds. I had passed half through the grove, perhaps, scarcely heeding anything around me, but on reaching a little ascent, I saw, through a break in the trees, two persons standing at a considerable distance from the path. Their backs were toward me, but I recognized them instantly. They were Mrs. Dennison and Mr. Lawrence. I understood at once the meaning of the note which she had sent to him--it was to ask for that interview. Every day my dislike of that woman increased; each effort that I made to conquer the feeling only seemed to make it grow more intense, and this last plot that I had unintentionally discovered filled me with something very like abhorrence. Of course, I was not so silly as to conjure anything really wrong out of the request she had made; but I was certain that something more than trivial coquetry was hidden under it. Instinctively, I began to tremble for Jessie: by what series of ideas I managed to connect her with that meeting, I cannot say; but I did so, and after that first glance I went on, burning with indignation against the artful woman, who seemed to have brought numberless shadows into the sunshine, which, before her coming, had pervaded our pleasant home. Once, as I hastened on through the dark woods, I looked back at the pair,--they were conversing earnestly. In Lawrence's manner there was a degree of impetuosity and impatience; while from Mrs. Dennison's attitude and gestures I felt certain that she was pleading with him to change some purpose he had formed. Just as I passed from the woods into the grounds, I saw that ubiquitous Lottie steal out from among the trees, and flit like a lapwing toward the house. It was not difficult to imagine what new mischief she had been at--spying and listening, no doubt. Lottie did not count it a sin, and I knew very well that she had been coolly out into the woods to overhear Mrs. Dennison's conversation with Lawrence. Some noise that I made attracted her attention; she dropped down on her knees--like a rabbit trying to hide itself in the grass--and began hunting for four-leaved clovers where clover had never grown since the memory of man. "What are you doing, Lottie?" I asked, walking toward her. She looked round with a fine show of innocence, although her eyes twinkled suspiciously. "Oh! it's you, Miss Hyde," she said, in no wise confused, rising from her knees with great deliberation and majesty. "Yes, it is I. And what brings you here?" I inquired. "There's several things I might have been doing," she answered, walking on by my side; "picking flowers, or saying my prayers, or--"