lling. Did
she call?"

"Call what?"

"I thought--you see I was half, perhaps wholly asleep, but I thought I
heard her voice. I was mistaken, was I not?"

"Yes, you must have been."

The negro had brought down the luggage, and stood waiting at the gate.

"You will tell her--Mrs. Raritan--I love her with all my heart and
soul."

The lady's lips quivered. "She knows it, and so do I."

"You will ask her to write."

"Yes, I will do so."

Tristrem took her hand in his. "Tell her from me," he began, but words
failed him, it was his face that completed the message. In a moment more
he was in the coach on his way to the station.

There was a brisk drive along the sea, a curve was rounded, and the
station stood in sight. And just as the turn was made Tristrem caught
the shriek of a whistle.

"There she goes," the negro exclaimed, "you ought to have been spryer."

"Has the train gone?" Tristrem asked.

"Can't you see her? I knew you'd be late." The man was insolent in his
familiarity, but Tristrem did not seem to notice it.

"I would have given much not to be," he said.

At this the negro became a trifle less uncivil. "Would you ree-ly like
to catch that train?" he asked.

"I would indeed."

"Is it worth twenty-five dollars to you?"

Tristrem nodded.

"Well, boss, I tell you. That train stops at Peacedale, and at Wakefield
she shunts off till the mail passes. Like as not the express is late. If
I get you to Kingston before the Newport passes, will you give me
twenty-five?"

"If I make the connection I will give you fifty."

"That's talking. You'll get there, boss. Just lay back and count your
thumbs."

The negro snapped his whip, and soon Tristrem was jolted over one of the
worst and fairest roads of New England, through a country for which
nature has done her best, and where only the legislator is vile. One
hamlet after another was passed, and still the coach rolled on.

"We'll get there," the negro repeated from time to time, and to
encourage his fare he lashed the horses to their utmost speed. Peacedale
was in the distance; Wakefield was passed, and in a cloud of dust they
tore through Kingston and reached the station just as the express
steamed up.

"I told you I'd do it," the negro exclaimed, exultingly. "I'll get
checks for your trunks."

A minute or two more, and the checks were obtained; the negro was
counting a roll of bills, and in a drawing-room car Tristrem was being
whirled to New Y