Their courtship was serene and peaceful:  disturbed by no feverish heat of passion, no doubts and fears, no lovers’ quarrels, but full of a deep, intense happiness, the fruit of their long and intimate friendship, their full acquaintance with, and perfect confidence in each other, and their strong love.  Enna sneeringly observed that “they were more like some staid old married couple than a pair of lovers.”

Arthur made no confidant in regard to his late interview with Jackson; nothing more was heard or seen of the scoundrel, and gradually Elsie came to the conclusion that Mr. Travilla, who occasionally rallied her good-naturedly on the subject of her fright, had been correct in his judgment that it was either the work of imagination or of some practical joker.

Arthur, on his part, thought that fear of the terrors he had held up before him would cause Jackson—­whom he knew to be an arrant coward—­to refrain from adventuring himself again in the neighborhood.

But he miscalculated the depth of the man’s animosity towards Mr. Travilla, which so exceeded his cowardice as at length to induce him to return and make another effort to destroy either the life of that gentleman or his hopes of happiness; perhaps both.

Elsie was very fond of the society of her dear ones, yet occasionally found much enjoyment in being alone, for a short season, with Nature or a book.  A very happy little woman, as she had every reason to be, and full of gratitude and love to the Giver of all good for His unnumbered blessings, she loved now and then to have a quiet hour in which to count them over, as a miser does his gold, to return her heartfelt thanks, tell her best, her dearest Friend of all, how happy she was, and seek help from Him to make a right use of each talent committed to her care.

Seated in her favorite arbor one lovely spring day, with thoughts thus employed, and eyes gazing dreamily upon the beautiful landscape spread out at her feet, she was startled from her reverie by some one suddenly stepping in and boldly taking a seat by her side.

She turned her head.  Could it be possible?  Yes, it was indeed Tom Jackson, handsomely dressed and looking, to a casual observer, the gentleman she had once believed him to be.  She recognized him instantly.

A burning blush suffused her face, dyeing even the fair neck and arms.  She spoke not a word, but rose up hastily with the intent to fly from his hateful presence.

“Now don’t, my darling, don’t run away from me,” he said, intercepting her.  “I’m sure you couldn’t have the heart, if you knew how I have lived for years upon the hope of such a meeting:  for my love for you, dearest Elsie, has never lessened, the ardor of my passion has never cooled——­”

“Enough, sir,” she said, drawing herself up, her eyes kindling and flashing as he had never thought they could; “how dare you insult me by such words, and by your presence here?  Let me pass.”