nce. The bow had drifted out into the river, and was almost
entirely under water. The stern stuck up in a mournful and ridiculous
manner, with its keel, instead of its broadside, presented to the view
of persons on the shore. As I neared the boat I heard a voice. I stopped
and listened. There was no one in sight. Could the sounds come from the
boat? I concluded that it must be so, and I walked up closer. Then I
heard distinctly the words:

"He grasp ed her by the thro at and yell ed, swear to me thou nev er
wilt re veal my se cret, or thy hot heart's blood shall stain this mar
bel fib or; she gave one gry vy ous gasp and--"

It was Pomona!

Doubtless she had climbed up the stern of the boat and had descended
into the depths of the wreck to rescue her beloved book, the reading of
which had so long been interrupted by my harsh decrees. Could I break
in on this one hour of rapture? I had not the heart to do it, and as
I slowly moved away, there came to me the last words that I ever heard
from Rudder Grange:

"And with one wild shry ik to heav en her heart's blo od spat ter ed
that prynce ly home of woe--"

CHAPTER VI. THE NEW RUDDER GRANGE.

I have before given an account of the difficulties we encountered when
we started out house-hunting, and it was this doleful experience which
made Euphemia declare that before we set out on a second search for a
residence, we should know exactly what we wanted.

To do this, we must know how other people live, we must examine into the
advantages and disadvantages of the various methods of housekeeping, and
make up our minds on the subject.

When we came to this conclusion we were in a city boarding-house, and
were entirely satisfied that this style of living did not suit us at
all.

At this juncture I received a letter from the gentleman who had boarded
with us on the canal-boat. Shortly after leaving us the previous fall,
he had married a widow lady with two children, and was now keeping house
in a French flat in the upper part of the city. We had called upon the
happy couple soon after their marriage, and the letter, now received,
contained an invitation for us to come and dine, and spend the night.

"We'll go," said Euphemia. "There's nothing I want so much as to see how
people keep house in a French flat. Perhaps we'll like it. And I must
see those children." So we went.

The house, as Euphemia remarked, was anything but flat. It was very tall
indeed--the tallest