his easy chair, then rose. Willie dropped Gertrude's
hand and stepped towards him. "Mr. Sullivan," said Gertrude, with a
feeble attempt at a suitable introduction.

They shook hands, and then all three sat down.

And now all Gertrude's embarrassment returned. It is often the case that
when the best of friends meet after a long separation they salute or
embrace each other, and then, notwithstanding the weight of matter
pressing on the mind of each--sufficient, perhaps, to furnish subjects
of conversation for weeks to come--nothing of importance presents itself
at once, and a pause ensues, which is finally filled up by some trivial
question concerning the journey of the newly-arrived party. She had seen
Willie before; she was aware of his arrival; knew even the steamer in
which he had come; but was anxious to conceal from him this knowledge.
She could not tell him, since he seemed so ignorant of the fact himself,
that they had met before; and she was at an utter loss what to do or say
under the circumstances. Her embarrassment soon communicated itself to
Willie; and Mr. Graham's presence, which was a restraint to both, made
matters worse. Willie, however, first broke the momentary silence.

"I should hardly have known you, Gertrude. I did not know you. How----"

"How did you come?" asked Mr. Graham, abruptly, apparently unconscious
that he was interrupting Willie's remark.

"In the _Europa_," replied Willie. "She got into New York about a week
ago."

"Out here, I mean," said Mr. Graham, rather stiffly. "Did you come out
in the coach?"

"Oh, excuse me, sir," replied Willie; "I misunderstood you. No, I drove
out from Boston in a chaise."

"Did anyone take your horse?"

"I fastened him in front of the house."

Willie glanced out of the window (it was now nearly dusk) to see that
the animal was still there. Mr. Graham settled himself in his easy chair
and looked into the fire. "You are changed, too," said Gertrude, in
reply to Willie's unfinished comment. Then, fearing he might feel hurt
at what he must know to be true in more ways than one, the colour which
had retreated mounted once more to her cheeks. But he did not seem to
feel hurt, but replied, "Yes, an Eastern climate makes great changes;
but I think I can hardly have altered more than you have. Why, only
think, Gerty, you were a child when I went away! I suppose I must have
known I should find you a young lady, but I begin to think I never fully
realised i