The next morning, Mrs. Bellenger, Jessie and Walter returned to the city, the latter promising his family that he would if possible obtain leave of absence from his business for several weeks, and be with them in the first stages of their bereavement.

To this plan Mr. Graham made no objection, and without seeing William, who chanced to be out of the city, Walter went back to Deerwood, while his grandmother also started on her projected visit to Boston.

Lonely indeed was Walter's life at the farm-house, and not even the cheering letters of Mr. Graham, which always contained a pleasant message from Jessie, had the power to enliven his solitude. He had tasted of the busy world, and a life of inactivity could not satisfy him now. So he wrote at last to Mr. Graham, asking why he could not start at once for California, instead of waiting until September.

With a father's ready tact, Mr. Graham understood exactly the nature of Walter's feelings toward his daughter, and as Mrs. Bartow had told him of the young man's promise, he watched him narrowly to see how well it would be kept.

"He is a noble fellow," he thought, "and he shall not wait for what may never be. I am sure Jessie loves him quite as much as he does her, and I will bring them together in my own way, and when September comes he shall not go to California alone;" so in reply to Walter's letter, he wrote: "You can go at once if you like, though I have in mind a pleasant surprise if you will wait until autumn," and as he wrote his own heart grew young and warm again, with fancying Walter's joy when he should say to him, "I know your secret, and you need not wait. Jessie loves you. Take her and be happy."

And as thoughts of his own daughter's possible bridal suggested to him another, he dipped his pen a second time, and added as a postscript:

"There is a rumor of a marriage to take place before long, and Jessie, I dare say, will wish you to be present, so perhaps you'd better wait."

Over the postscript Walter lingered long and anxiously. Was Jessie to be the bride? It would seem so, and yet there was madness in the thought. Once he resolved to go and see, and this he would perhaps have done had not the next mail brought him a confirmation of his fears. It was from his cousin, and read as follows:

"Dear Walt:—You will be greatly surprised, I dare say, to hear that I have caught the bird at last, and the tenth of July, at eleven A. M., will see us one. It is sudden, I know; but all the better for that. She wanted to wait until fall and have a grand smash-up, but I, with her grandmother to back me, insisted upon its taking place immediately, and in a quiet way. We shall be married in church, and then go off to some watering-place. Her father does the handsome thing, and comes down with a cool 50,000 on her bridal day, but that's nothing for a millionaire. I'm more obliged to you, Walt, than I can well express for not interfering. At one time I was deuced jealous, but you behaved like a gentleman, and left me an open field, for which I thank you, and cordially invite you to the wedding.

"By the way, Jessie says you know about that unfortunate affair with poor Nellie. Believe me, Walt, I loved that girl, and even now the thought of her takes my breath away; but she was too poor. Isn't it lucky Jessie is rich? You ought to see how delighted my grandmother-elect is with the match. But time hastens, and I must finish. Remember, July 10th, hour 11, from —— Church. Adieu.

"Bill Bellenger."

For a time after reading the letter Walter sat powerless to act or think. Then the storm burst upon him with overwhelming fury, and he raved like one bereft of reason. Jessie was lost to him forever, and, what was worse than all, she had proved herself unworthy of esteem by her heartless treachery. How could she so soon forget the little grave on the hillside? How could she plight her faith to one whom, only a few weeks since, she had denounced so strongly? Was there no truth in woman? Were they all as false as fair? Yes, they were, he said; and he laughed bitterly as he thought how, hereafter, he should hate the entire sex. Walter was growing desperate, and, in his desperation, he resolved to put the width of the western hemisphere between himself and the fickle Jessie Graham. He could go to California now as well as later, and he determined to start for New York that night. So with a hurried good-by to his family he left them, and scarcely knowing whether he were dead or alive, he took the express for the city.

It was morning when he reached there, and the Wall street thunder had already commenced. His first business was to ascertain that a vessel would sail that day for California,—his next to call on Mr. Graham and make the necessary explanations.

Mr. Graham was not at the office,—he was sick, the clerk said, and as Walter had neither the time nor the inclination to go all the way up-town to find him, he sat down and wrote to him what he would have said.

He was going to California, and the reason why he went Mr. Graham could perhaps divine; if not, Walter would tell him frankly that he could not stay in New York and see a man of William Bellenger's character married to the girl he loved better than he loved his life.

"I understand the business on which I am going thoroughly, I believe," he added in conclusion; "but if there is anything more which you wish to say, you can write it by the next steamer, and your directions shall be attended to most strictly."

This letter he left for Mr. Graham, and when the night shadows fell again on Deerwood, where in the large old kitchen the family talked of him, he sat upon the upper deck, listening, with an aching heart, to the surging of the waves, as they dashed against his floating home.