Meanwhile the fickle J.C. in Rochester was one moment regretting the

step he was about to take and the next wishing the day would hasten,

so he could "have it over with." Maude Remington had secured a place

in his affections which Nellie could not fill, and though he had no

wish to marry her now, he tried to make himself believe that but for

her misfortune she should still have become his wife.

"Jim would marry her, I dare say, even if she were blind as a bat,"

he said; "but then he is able to support her," and reminded by this

of an unanswered letter from his cousin, who was still in New

Orleans, he sat down and wrote, telling him of Maude's total

blindness, and then, almost in the next sentence saying that his

wedding was fixed for the 5th of March. "There," he exclaimed, as he

read over the letter, "I believe I must be crazy, for I never told

him that the bride was Nellie; but no matter, I'd like to have him

think me magnanimous for a while, and I want to hear what he says."

Two weeks or more went by, and then there came an answer, fraught

with sympathy for Maude, and full of commendation for J.C., who "had

shown himself a man."

Accompanying the letter was a box containing a most exquisite set of

pearls for the bride, together with a diamond ring, on which was

inscribed, "Cousin Maude."

"Aint I in a deuced scrape," said J.C., as he examined the beautiful

ornaments; "Nellie would be delighted with them, but she shan't have

them; they are not hers. I'll write to Jim at once, and tell him the

mistake," and seizing his pen he dashed off a few lines, little

guessing how much happiness they would carry to the far-off city,

where daily and nightly James De Vere fought manfully with the love

that clung with a deathlike grasp to the girl J.C. had forsaken, the

poor, blind, helpless Maude.




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