“But fairest Marian, never believe but that if you go to Washington, I shall take that city in on my way.  There is a vessel to sail on the first of February, from Baltimore, for Liverpool.  I shall probably go by her.  I shall pass through Washington City on my way to Baltimore.  Nay, indeed! what should hinder me from joining your party and traveling with you, since we are friends and neighbors, and go at the same time, from the same neighborhood, by the same road, to the same place?” he asked, eagerly.

A smile of joy illumined Marian’s face.

“Truly,” she answered, after a short pause.  “I see no objection to that plan.  And, oh!  Thurston,” she said, holding out her hand, and looking at him with her face holy and beaming with affection, “do you know what fullness of life and comfort—­what sweetness of rest and contentment I feel in your presence, when I can have that rightly?”

“My own dear Marian!  Heaven hasten the day when we shall be forever united.”

And he suddenly sprang from his horse—­lifted her from her saddle, and holding her carefully above the sloppy path, folded her fondly to his bosom, pressed kisses on her lips, and then replaced her, saying: 

“Dear Marian, forgive me!  My heart was half breaking with its need to press you to itself!  Now then, dearest, I shall consider it settled that I join your party to Washington.  I shall call at Locust Hill and see Mrs. Waugh, inform her of my destination, and ask her permission to accompany her.  By the way—­when do you give your answer to that lady?”

“I shall ride over to the Hill to-morrow morning for that purpose.”

“Very well, dearest.  In that case I will also appoint the morning as my time of calling; so that I may have the joy of meeting you there.”

They had by this time reached the verge of the forest and the cross-road where their paths divided.  And here they bade a loving, lingering adieu to each other, and separated.

That evening Marian announced to Edith her decision to accompany Jacquelina to Washington City.

Edith approved the plan.

The next morning Marian left the house to go to Locust Hill, where, besides the family, she found Thurston already awaiting her.

Thurston was seated by Jacquelina, endeavoring, by his gay and brilliant sallies of wit and humor, to charm away the sullen sadness of the pale and petulant little beauty.

And, truth to tell, soon fitful, fleeting smiles broke over the little wan face—­smiles that grew brighter and more frequent as she noticed the surly anxiety they gave to Dr. Grimshaw, who sat, like the dog in the manger, watching Thurston sunning himself in the light of eyes that never, by any chance, shone upon him, their rightful proprietor!