Late on the afternoon of that day, Jenny, in company with Mark, the latter in the dress of a seaman in the United States service, passed from a steamboat at the landing near Fairview, and took their way towards the mansion of Mr. Lofton.  They had not proceeded far, before the young man began to linger, while Jenny showed every disposition to press on rapidly.  At length Mark stopped.

“Jenny,” said he, while a cloud settled on his face, “you’ve had your own way up to this moment.  I’ve been passive in your hands.  But I can’t go on with you any further.”

“Don’t say that,” returned Jenny, her voice almost imploring in its tones.  And in the earnestness of her desire to bring Mark back to his grandfather, she seized one of his hands, and, by a gentle force, drew him a few paces in the direction they had been going.  But he resisted that force, and they stood still again.

“I don’t think I can go back, Jenny,” said Mark, in a subdued voice:  “I have some pride left, much as has been crushed out of me during the period of my absence, and this rises higher and higher in my heart the nearer I approach my grandfather.  How can I meet him!”

“Only come into his presence, Mark,” urged Jenny, speaking tenderly and familiarly.  She had addressed him as Mr. Clifford, but he had forbidden that, saying—­

“To you my name is Mark—­let none other pass your lips!”

“Only come into his presence.  You need not speak to him, nor look towards him.  This is all I ask.”

“But, the humiliation of going back after my resentment of his former treatment,” said Mark.  “I can bear anything but this bending of my pride—­this humbling of myself to others.”

“Don’t think of yourself, Mark,” replied Jenny.  “Think of your grandfather, on whom your absence has wrought so sad a change.  Think of what he must have suffered to break down so in less than two years.  In pity to him, then, come back.  Be guided by me, Mark, and I will lead you right.  Think of that strange dream!”

At this appeal, Mark moved quickly forward by the side of the beautiful girl, who had so improved in every way—­mind and body having developed wonderfully since he parted with her—­that he was filled all the while by wonder, respect and admiration.  He moved by her side as if influenced by a spell that subdued his own will.

In silence they walked along, side by side, the pressure of thought and feeling on each mind being so strong as to take away the desire to speak, until the old mansion house of Mr. Lofton appeared in view.  Here Mark stopped again; but the tenderly uttered “Come,” and the tearful glance of Jenny, effectually controlled the promptings of an unbroken will.  Together, in a few minutes afterwards, they approached the house and entered.

“Where is Mr. Lofton?” asked Jenny of a servant who met them in the great hall.

“He’s been very ill,” replied the servant.