CHAPTER II.
It was near sunset of a lovely June day. An hour earlier Dr. Jasper had invited his wife to drive with him a few miles into the country, whither professional duties summoned him. These had been attended to, and they were travelling toward their home in Prairieville again.
Their way lay along the bank of the river, which in this part of its course moved with majestic quiet, reflecting in its clear depths the beautiful blue of the sky overhead, the glories of the sunset clouds, and the overshadowing trees on the hither shore. On the opposite bank a stretch of white sand, a few feet in width, bordered green fields and meadows, beyond which rose richly wooded hills.
“It is a beautiful country,” remarked Mrs. Jasper, in her soft, girlish tones. “But where now?” as horse and gig took a sudden turn in a westerly direction; “this is not the direct route home.”
“To Lakeside, my dear,” replied her husband.
“That is where the Heaths reside, isn’t it?”
“Yes; and a very attractive place it is; I want you to see it.”
“But, doctor, Miss Heath has not called upon me.”
He gave her a half-reproachful, half-humorous look. “So I am your doctor? nothing nearer or dearer, eh, Serena?” he said, dropping the reins on his horse’s neck and bending down to look into her eyes—large, soft, dark-brown orbs shaded by heavy silken lashes.
She was a handsome brunette, and so youthful in appearance that few would have taken her to be the mother of the three-year-old boy seated on a stool between them.