saw that they had come to a city, which must be
Philadelphia. Two hours nearer home....

Now her wakefulness had a sharper quality; Cally lay wide-eyed, in a
dazed chill wonder. Once in the night she pushed up the curtain, raised
herself on an elbow in the stateroom berth; and her splendid gay hair,
loosened with much tossing, streamed downward over her shoulders.
Outside was a world of moonlit peace. The flying trees had tops of
silver; meadows danced by in splotches of light and shade; once they
sped over a lovely river. Strange to think, that if she had but said on
that far-away day, "He frightened me so, I didn't want to call him
hack,"--just those words, how few and simple,--she would not be hurrying
home now, with everything ahead so dark, so terrifying. And, though she
seemed to try a long time, she could not think now why she had not said
these words, could not weigh those slight fanciful tremors against this
vast icy void....

She fell asleep; woke again to more clanging and hissing; slept and
dreamed badly; and suddenly sat up in the berth, confusedly, to find it
broad day, and the sun streaming through the little crevice beneath the
curtain. Her mother was standing braced in the aisle of the little room,
dressing systematically.

"We've passed Penton. You'd better get up," said the brisk familiar
tones.

And she eyed her daughter narrowly as she asked if she had slept.

Home again. This time yesterday, who would have dreamed this
possible?...

And then, after just enough time to dress, they began to pass landmarks,
and presently to slacken speed; and then they were stepping down from
the train, out into the hotch-potch gathering on the sunny
station platform.

Both women were heavily veiled. Mrs. Heth's furtive glances discovered
no one who was likely to hail them, demanding what in the world these
things meant. A ramshackle hack invited and received them. And, jogging
over streets crowded with a life-time's associations, the Heths
presently came to their own house, whose face they had not thought to
see again these four months....

Mr. Heth was away, fishing, in a spot dear to his heart, but remote from
railroad or telegraph. The House of Heth looked like a deserted house;
its blinds were drawn from fourth story to basement. However, there was
old Moses, bowing and running down the steps to open the carriage door
and assist with the hand-luggage. He greeted the ladies with
courtliness, and inquire