Jenny sunk into a chair, her bosom heaving, and the crimson flush still glowing on her cheeks, while Mark gazed into her face with undisguised admiration.

“Who would have thought,” said he to himself, “that so sweet a wild flower grew in this out of the way place.”

“Did you ever see my mother, Jenny?” asked the young man, after she was a little composed.

“Mrs. Clifford?”

“Yes.”

“Often.”

“Then we will be friends from this moment, Jenny.  If you knew my mother then, you must have loved her.  She has been dead now over three years.”

There was a shade of sadness in the young man’s voice as he said this.

“When did you see her last?” he resumed.

“The summer before she died she came up from New York and spent two or three weeks here.  I saw her then, almost every day.”

“And you loved my mother?  Say you did!”

The young man spoke with a rising emotion that he could not restrain.

“Every body loved her,” replied Jenny, simply and earnestly.

For a few moments Mark concealed his face with his hands, to hide the signs of feeling that were playing over it; then looking up again, he said—­

“Jenny, because you knew my mother and loved her, we must be friends.  It was a great loss to me when she died.  The greatest loss I ever had, or, it may be, ever will have.  I have been worse since then.  Ah me!  If she had only lived!”

Again Mark covered his face with his hands, and, this time, he could not keep the dimness from his eyes.

It was a strange sight to Jenny to see the young man thus moved.  Her innocent heart was drawn toward him with a pitying interest, and she yearned to speak words of comfort, but knew not what to say.

After Mark grew composed again, he asked Jenny a great many questions touching her knowledge of his mother; and listened with deep interest and emotion to many little incidents of Jenny’s intercourse with her, which were related with all the artlessness and force of truth.  In the midst of this singular interview, Mrs. Lee came in and surprised the young couple, who, forgetting all reserve, were conversing with an interest in their manner, the ground of which she might well misunderstand.  Jenny started and looked confused, but, quickly recovering herself, introduced Mark as the grandson of Mr. Lofton.

The old lady did not respond to this with the cordiality that either of the young folks had expected.  No, not by any means.  A flush of angry suspicion came into her face, and she said to Jenny as she handed her the bonnet she hurriedly removed—­

“Here—­take this into the other room and put it away.”

The moment Jenny retired, Mrs. Lee turned to Mark, and after looking at him somewhat sternly for a moment, surprised him with this speech—­

“If I ever find you here again, young man, I’ll complain to your grandfather.”