the sharp clatter of hoofs and wheels, and Jenny slid away--a white
moonbeam--from the hill. For a moment she glimmered through the trees,
and then, reaching the house, passed her sleeping father on the veranda,
and, darting into her bedroom, locked the door, threw open the window,
and, falling on her knees beside it, leaned her hot cheeks upon her
hands, and listened. In a few moments she was rewarded by the sharp
clatter of hoofs on the stony road; but it was only a horseman, whose
dark figure was swiftly lost in the shadows of the lower road. At
another time she might have recognized the man; but her eyes and ears
were now all intent on something else. It came presently with dancing
lights, a musical rattle of harness, a cadence of hoof-beats, that
set her heart to beating in unison--and was gone. A sudden sense of
loneliness came over her; and tears gathered in her sweet eyes.

She arose, and looked around her. There was the little bed, the
dressing-table, the roses that she had worn last night, still fresh
and blooming in the little vase. Every thing was there; but every thing
looked strange. The roses should have been withered, for the party
seemed so long ago. She could hardly remember when she had worn this
dress that lay upon the chair. So she came back to the window, and sank
down beside it, with her cheek a trifle paler, leaning on her hand, and
her long braids reaching to the floor. The stars paled slowly, like her
cheek; yet with eyes that saw not, she still looked from her window for
the coming dawn.

It came, with violet deepening into purple, with purple flushing
into rose, with rose shining into silver, and glowing into gold. The
straggling line of black picket-fence below, that had faded away with
the stars, came back with the sun. What was that object moving by
the fence? Jenny raised her head, and looked intently. It was a man