’Lena would have died rather than ask a favor of him for herself, but to save Anna she could do almost any thing.  Hastily securing the letter, and throwing on her sun-bonnet, she sauntered down the lawn and out upon the turnpike, where by the gate she awaited his coming.

“’Lena—­excuse me—­Miss Rivers, is it you?” asked Durward, touching his hat, as in evident confusion she came forward, asking if she could trust him.

“Trust me?  Yes, with anything,” answered Durward, quickly dismounting, and forgetting everything save the bright, beautiful face which looked up to him so eagerly.

“Then,” answered ’Lena, “take this letter and see it deposited safely, will you?”

Glancing at the superscription, Durward felt his face crimson, while he instantly remembered what Mrs. Livingstone had once said concerning ’Lena’s attachment to Mr. Everett.

“Sometime, perhaps, I will explain,” said ’Lena, observing the expression of his countenance, and then adding, with some bitterness, “I assure you there is no harm in it.”

“Of course not,” answered Durward, again mounting his horse, and riding away more puzzled than ever, while ’Lena returned to the house, which everywhere gave tokens of the approaching nuptials.

Already had several costly bridal gifts arrived, and among them was a box from the captain, containing a set of diamonds, which Mrs. Livingstone placed in her daughter’s waving hair, bidding her mark their effect.  But not a muscle of Anna’s face changed; nothing moved her; and with the utmost indifference she gazed on the preparations around her.  A stranger would have said ’Lena was the bride, for, with flushed cheeks and nervously anxious manner, she watched each sun as it rose and set, wondering what the result would be.  Once, when asked whom she would have for her bridesmaid and groomsman, Anna had answered, “Nellie and John!” but that could not be, for the latter had imposed upon himself the penance of waiting a whole year ere he spoke to Nellie of that which lay nearest his heart, and in order the better to keep his vow, he had gone from home, first winning from her the promise that she would not become engaged until his return.  And now, when he learned of his sister’s request, he refused to come, saying, “if she would make such a consummate fool of herself, he did not wish to see her.”

So Carrie and Durward were substituted, and as this arrangement brought the latter occasionally to the house, ’Lena had opportunities of asking him if there had yet come any answer to her letter; and much oftener than he would otherwise have done, Durward went down to Frankfort, for he felt that it was no unimportant matter which thus deeply interested ’Lena.  At last, the day before the bridal came, Durward had gone to the city, and in a state of great excitement ’Lena awaited his return, watching with a trembling heart as the sun went down behind the western hills.  Slowly the hours dragged on, and many a time she stole out in the deep darkness to listen, but there was nothing to be heard save the distant cry of the night-owl, and she was about retracing her steps for the fifth time, when from behind a clump of rose-bushes started a little dusky form, which whispered softly, “Is you Miss ’Leny?”