The Rector of St. Mark's

of Saratoga, and thither, the first week in August, came Mrs. Meredith, with eight large trunks

ed. But she was not now quite so much of a novice as when she first reached New York the Saturday following the picnic at Prospect Hill. She had passed successfully and safely through the hands of mantua-makers, milliners and hairdressers since then. She had laid aside every article brought from home. She wore her hair in puffs and waterfalls, and her dresses in the latest mode. She had seen the fashionable world as represented at Saratoga, and, sickening at the sight, had gladly acquiesced in her aunt's proposal to go on to Newport, where the air was purer and the hotels not so densely packed. She had been called a beauty and a belle, but her heart was longing for the leafy woods and fresh green fields of Hanover; and Newport, she fancied, would be more like the country than sultry, crowded Saratoga, and never since leaving home had she looked so bright and

have not e

sensitive friend had been by Anna Ruthven's refusal, while added to this was a fear lest Anna had been influenced by a thought of him and what might possibly result from an acquaintance. T

but I shan't, and I'll be revenged on her for refusing the best man that ever breathed. I'll go to Newport ins

ers and their bold, shameless daughters, Mrs. Meredith had been too wise a maneuverer to mention Thornton Hastings, so that Anna was wholly ignorant of his presence at Newport, and looked up in unfeigned surprise at the tall, elegant man whom her au

essed hoyden, who was whirling around the room with Ned Peters, from Boston,

pulse did not quicken at the sight of him, though a gleam of something like curiosity shone in the brown eyes which scanned him so quietly. She was thinking of Lucy, and he

Saratoga. "I am glad, for now you will, perhaps, walk with me outside upon the piazza. You won't take cold

na, talking to her as he seldom talked to women, and feeling greatly surprised to find that what he said was fully appreciated and understood. That he was ple

had resolved to study Anna Ruthven closely, and ascertain, if possibl

ying the pretty patroness to all Mr. Leighton's parishioners, especially a Widow Hobbs, whom she had actually taken to ride in the carriage, and to whose ragged children she had sent a bundle of cast-off party dresses; and the

te the situation? I have an interest there. He is

ir and clothing her children in party dresses. His opinion of Lucy, as she had said, was that she was a pretty, but friv

aveling all over Christendom to find the hovels and huts, though she is mortally afraid of the smallpox, and always carries wi

so highly that, had I a sister, there is no man li

essed a rose she held so tightly that the sharp thorns pierced h

Hastings said. "Come to the water

uld hardly account himself. He pitied her, he said, suspecting that she had repented of her rashness, and because he pitied her he asked her to ride with him that day

see. You have done well

e might influence her to reconsider her decision and give him a different answer. This was the second day of Thornton Hastings' acquaintance with Anna Ruthven, but as the days went on, bringing the usual routine of life at Newport, the drives, the ride

there came a night when they wandered farther than usual from the hotel, and sat down together on a height of land which overlooked the placid waters, where the moonlight lay softly sleeping. It was a most lovely night, and for a w

e, and then he waited for her answer, watching anxiously the limp white hands, which, when he first began to talk, had fallen so helplessly upon her lap, and then had crept up to her face, which was turned away from him, so that he could not see its expression, or guess at the struggle going on in Anna's mind. She was not wholly surprised, for she could no

t last, his voice very low and tender, as h

eply, Thornton lifted up her head, and was about to kiss

me to tell you so, for I believe you are sincere in your proposal; but

in that she should reconsider her decision. He could not take it as her final one. He had loved her too much, had thought too much of m

ugh, the same as if this had never happened. I like you, Mr. Hastings, because you have been kind to me, and made my stay in Newport so much pleasanter than I tho

win whom many a woman would almost have given her right hand. To say that Thornton was not a little piqued at her refusal would be false. He had not expected it, accustomed, as he was, to adulation; but he tried to put that feeling down, and his manner was even more kind and considerate than ever as he walked slowly back to the hotel, where Mrs. Meredith was waiting for them, her

s for a month's probation, which I have granted, and I ask that she sha

at night we pass silently, and come to the next morning, when Anna sat alone on the piazza at the rear of the hotel, watching the playful gambols of some children on the grass, and won

n at once bringing your letters to me," he continued, with a smile, as he handed Anna the letter from Lucy Harcourt. "I have one too, from Arthur which I will read while you are devouring yours, and then, perhaps, you will take a little ride. The

as she glanced at the first few lines, then with a low, moa

nd then, leaving her to Mrs. Meredith's care, Thornton Hastings went back to fi

engaged-positively engaged-but not to one of the fifty lambs about whom you once jocosely wrote. The shepherd h

Thornton's ejaculatio

ed from the gay butterfly of fashion she used to be, and in time will make as demure a little Quakeress as one co

Let it suffice that I am engaged to another, and mean to make a kind and faithful husband to her. Lucy would have suited you better, perhaps, t

Leig

him." Thornton exclaimed, dashing aside the letter and feeling conscious of a pang as he remembered the bright, airy lit

d for a full half hour Thornton paced up and down the room, meditati