at the
outset to the somewhat tired young traveler, but she beckoned a driver
whom she had just ignored, and presently was shut into a somewhat
antiquated public carriage and on her way to Miss Prince's house.

So this was Dunport, and in these very streets her father had played,
and here her mother had become deeper and deeper involved in the
suffering and tragedy which had clouded the end of her short life. It
seemed to the young stranger as if she must shrink away from the
curious glances that stray passers-by sent into the old carriage; and
that she was going to be made very conspicuous by the newly-awakened
interest in a sad story which surely could not have been forgotten.
Poor Nan! she sent a swift thought homeward to the doctor's house and
Mrs. Graham's; even to the deserted little place which had sheltered
her good old grandmother and herself in the first years she could
remember. And with strange irony came also a picture of the home of
one of her schoolmates,--where the father and mother and their
children lived together and loved each other. The tears started to her
eyes until some good angel whispered the kind "Come back soon, Nan
dear," with which Dr. Leslie had let her go away.

The streets were narrow and roughly paved in the old provincial
seaport town; the houses looked a good deal alike as they stood close
to the street, though here and there the tops of some fruit trees
showed themselves over a high garden fence. And presently before a
broad-faced and gambrel-roofed house, the driver stopped his horses,
and now only the front door with its bull's-eyed top-lights and
shining knocker stood between Nan and her aunt. The coachman had given
a resounding summons at this somewhat formidable entrance before he
turned to open the carriage door, but Nan had already alighted, and
stepped quickly into the hall. Priscilla directed her with some
ceremony to the south parlor, and a prim figure turned away from one
of the windows that overlooked the garden, and came forward a few
steps. "I suppose this is Anna," the not very cordial voice began, and
faltered; and then Miss Prince led her niece toward the window she had
left, and without a thought of the reserve she had decided upon,
pushed one of the blinds wide open, and looked again at Nan's
appealing face, half eager herself, and half afraid. Then she fumbled
for a handkerchief, and betook herself to the end of the sofa and
began to cry: "You are so like my mo