now my husband," she said; "he lives a long way from
here."

"In New Orleans?" asked the gentleman.

"Yes, sir," said Mary, boldly. She couldn't fear such good faces.

"His first name is John, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir. Do you really know John, sir?" The lines of pleasure and
distress mingled strangely in Mary's face. The gentleman smiled. He
tapped little Alice's head with the tips of his fingers.

"I used to hold him on my knee when he was no bigger than this little
image of him here."

The tears leaped into Mary's eyes.

"Mr. Thornton," she whispered, huskily, and could say no more.

"You must come home with us," said the lady, touching her tenderly on
the shoulder. "It's a wonder of good fortune that we've met. Mr.
Thornton has something to say to you,--a matter of business. He's the
family's lawyer, you know."

"I must get to my husband without delay," said Mary.

"Get to your husband?" asked the lawyer, in astonishment.

"Yes, sir."

"Through the lines?"

"Yes, sir."

"I told him so," said the lady.

"I don't know how to credit it," said he. "Why, my child, I don't think
you can possibly know what you are attempting. Your friends ought never
to have allowed you to conceive such a thing. You must let us dissuade
you. It will not be taking too much liberty, will it? Has your husband
never told you what good friends we were?"

Mary nodded and tried to speak.

"Often," said Mrs. Thornton to her husband, interpreting the
half-articulated reply.

They sat and talked in low tones, under the dismal lamp of the railroad
coach, for two or three hours. Mr. Thornton came around and took the
seat in front of Mary, and sat with one leg under him, facing back
toward her. Mrs. Thornton sat beside her, and Alice slumbered on the
seat behind, vacated by the lawyer and his wife.

"You needn't tell me John's story," said the gentleman; "I know it. What
I didn't know before, I got from a man with whom I corresponded in New
Orleans."

"Dr. Sevier?"

"No, a man who got it from the Doctor."

So they had Mary tell her own story.

"I thought I should start just as soon as my mother's health would
permit. John wouldn't have me start before that, and, after all, I don't
see how I could have done it--rightly. But by the time she was well--or
partly well--every one was in the greatest anxiety and doubt everywhere.
You know how it was."

"Yes," said Mrs. Thornton.

"And everybody thinking everything would soon be