he would have dropped into his arms as unresistingly as a tired child.

As the night wore on, the darkness and desolation became intolerable,
and she shut them out, only to find herself suffocated by the
imprisonment of her sleeping-berth. Hour after hour dragged on; the
little excitement of leaving Albany was long past, and the train was
wandering through the dullness of Central New York, when at last a faint
suspicion of dim light appeared in the landscape, and Esther returned to
her window. If any thing could be drearier than the blackness of night,
it was the grayness of dawn, which had all the cold terror of death and
all the grim repulsiveness of life joined in an hour of despair. Esther
could now see the outlines of farm-houses as the train glided on;
snow-laden roofs and sheds; long stretches of field with fences buried
to their top rails in sweeping snow-drifts; in the houses, lights showed
that toil had begun again; smoke rose from the chimneys; figures moved
in the farm-yards; a sleigh could be seen on a decided road; the world
became real, prosaic, practical, mechanical, not worth struggling
about; a mere colorless, passionless, pleasureless grayness. As the
mystery vanished, the pain passed and the brain grew heavy. Esther's
eyelids drooped, and she sank at last into a sleep so sound that there
was hardly need for Catherine to stand sentry before her berth and frown
the car into silence. The sun was high above the horizon; the sky was
bright and blue; the snowy landscape flashed with the sparkle of
diamonds, when Esther woke, and it was with a cry of pleasure that she
felt her spirits answer the sun.

Meanwhile her flight was no secret. As the train that carried her off
drew out of the great station into the darkness for its long journey of
three thousand miles, two notes were delivered to gentlemen only a few
squares away. Strong at his club received one from Mrs. Murray: "We all
start for Clifton at nine o'clock. Come to-morrow and bring a companion
if you can. We need to be amused." The Reverend Stephen Hazard received
the other note, which was still more brief, but long enough to strike
him with panic; for it contained two words: "Good-by! Esther."

No sooner did Strong receive his missive than he set himself in active
motion. Wharton, who commonly dined at the club, was so near that Strong
had only to pass the note over to him. Whether Wharton was still
suffering from the shock of his wife's appearanc