won't be back for an hour."

"Has she, indeed? Then you know Mr. Lofton?"

"Oh, yes. We know him very well. He owns our little cottage."

"Does he! No doubt you find him a good landland."

"He's a kind man," said the girl, earnestly.

"He is, as I have good reason to know," remarked the young man. "Mr.
Lofton is my grandfather."

The girl seemed much surprised at this avowal, and appeared less at
ease than before.

"And now, having told you who I am," said Mark, "I think I may be
bold enough to ask your name."

"My name is Jenny Lawson," replied the girl.

"A pretty name, that--Jenny--I always liked the sound of it. My
mother's name was Jenny. Did you ever see my mother? But don't
tremble so! Sit down, and tell your fluttering heart to be still."

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