e,
Willie," said she, "to the side-door, so that George may see us and take
your horse to the stable."

"No," said Willie, as he stopped opposite the front gate; "I can't come
in now--there seems to be a house full of company, and besides I have an
appointment in town at eight o'clock, and promised to be punctual;"--he
glanced at his watch and added, "it is near that already. I did not
think of its being so late; but I shall see you to-morrow morning, may I
not?" She looked her assent, and, with a warm grasp of the hand as he
helped her from the chaise, and a mutual smile of confidence and love,
they separated.

He drove rapidly towards Boston, and she, opening the gate, found
herself in the arms of Fanny Bruce, who had been impatiently waiting the
departure of Willie to seize her dear Miss Gertrude and, between tears
and kisses, pour out her congratulations and thanks for her happy escape
from that horrid steamboat--for this was the first time they had met
since the accident.

"Has Mrs. Graham come, Fanny?" asked Gertrude, as they walked up to the
house together.

"Yes, indeed; Mrs. Graham, and Kitty, and Isabel, and a little girl, and
a sick gentleman--Mr. Clinton, I believe; and another gentleman--but
_he's_ gone."

"Who has gone?"

"Oh, a tall, dignified-looking man, with black eyes, and a beautiful
face, and hair as white as if he were old--and he isn't old either."

"And do you say he has gone?"

"Yes; he didn't come with the rest. He was here when I came, and he
went away about an hour ago. I heard him tell Miss Emily that he had
agreed to meet a friend in Boston, but perhaps he'd come back this
evening. I hope he will, Miss Gertrude; you ought to see him."

They had now reached the house, and through the open door Gertrude could
plainly distinguish the loud tones of Mrs. Graham's voice proceeding
from the parlour on the right. She was talking to her husband and Emily,
and was just saying as Gertrude entered, "Oh, it was the most awful
thing I ever heard of in my life! and to think, Emily, of your being on
board, and our Isabel! Poor child! she hasn't got her colour back yet
after the fright. And Gertrude Flint, too! By the way, they say Gertrude
behaved very well. Where is the child?"

Turning round, she now saw Gertrude, who was just entering the room,
and, going towards her, she kissed her with considerable heartiness and
sincerity; for Mrs. Graham, though somewhat coarse and blunt, was not
witho