of their lives
have been on a much finer, much higher plane? Had not the commonplace,
every-day experiences of marriage vulgarized them both? To be sure,
there were the children; but if they had never had the children, she
would never have missed them; and if Basil had, for example, died just
before they were married--She started from this wicked reverie, and ran
towards her husband, whose broad, honest back, with no visible neck or
shirt-collar, was turned towards her, as he stood, with his head thrown
up, studying a time-table on the wall; she passed her arm convulsively
through his, and pulled him away.

"It's time to be getting our bags out to the train, Basil! Come, Bella!
Tom, we're going!"

The children reluctantly turned from the newsman's trumpery, and they
all went out to the track, and took seats on the benches under the
colonnade. While they waited; the train for Buffalo drew in, and they
remained watching it till it started. In the last car that passed them,
when it was fairly under way, a face looked full at Isabel from one
of the windows. In that moment of astonishment she forgot to observe
whether it was sad or glad; she only saw, or believed she saw, the light
of recognition dawn into its eyes, and then it was gone.

"Basil!" she cried, "stop the train! That was Kitty Ellison!"

"Oh no, it wasn't," said Basil, easily. "It looked like her; but it
looked at least ten years older."

"Why, of course it was! We're all ten years older," returned his wife in
such indignation at his stupidity that she neglected to insist upon his
stopping the train, which was rapidly diminishing in the perspective.

He declared it was only a fancied resemblance; she contended that this
was in the neighborhood of Eriecreek, and it must be Kitty; and thus one
of their most inveterate disagreements began.

Their own train drew into the depot, and they disputed upon the fact in
question till they entered on the passage of the Suspension Bridge. Then
Basil rose and called the children to his side. On the left hand, far
up the river, the great Fall shows, with its mists at its foot and its
rainbow on its brow, as silent and still as if it were vastly painted
there; and below the bridge on the right, leap the Rapids in the narrow
gorge, like seas on a rocky shore. "Look on both sides, now," he said to
the children. "Isabel you must see this!"

Isabel had been preparing for the passage of this bridge ever since she
left Bosto