gave up everything
and came in the first train. Now do acknowledge that I am the kindest
friend in the world."

Elizabeth received her cordially, and with a great effort shook off the
gloomy thoughts that had oppressed her all the morning. Mrs. Harrington
did not heed this, she was always ready to welcome herself, and in haste
to secure her full share of the conversation, and before Elizabeth could
finish her rather halting attempts at a compliment she presented her
companions.

Elizabeth had hardly glanced at the gentlemen till then, but now she
recognized the elder and more stately of the two as the person who had
probably saved her life on the Bloomingdale road.

"I need not ask a welcome for this gentleman, I am sure," said Mrs.
Harrington, clasping both hands over Mr. North's arm, and leaning
coquettishly upon him. "He is our preserver, Mrs. Mellen,--our hero."

North smiled, but rejected these compliments with an impatient lift of
the head.

"Pray allow Mrs. Mellen to forget that this is not our first meeting,"
he said; "so small a service is not worth mentioning."

He looked steadily at Elizabeth as he spoke. She seemed to shrink from
his glance, but answered,

"No, no; it was a service I can never forget--never hope to repay."

"Now let me beg a welcome for my other friend," interposed Mrs.
Harrington. "Mr. Hawkins. I told him it was quite a charity to come with
me and rouse you up a little, besides, he is dying to see your lovely
sister-in-law."

Mr. Hawkins, a very young Englishman, was leaning against a pillar of
the veranda in an attitude which displayed his very stylish dress to the
best possible advantage. He appeared mildly conscious that he had
performed a solemn duty in making a perambulating tailor's block of
himself, and ready to receive any amount of feminine admiration without
resistance. He came forward half a step and fell back again.

"Such a charming place you have here--quite a paradise," he drawled,
caressing the head of his cane, which was constantly between his lips.
"I trust--aw--the other angel of this retreat is visible?"

Elizabeth replied with a faint smile. She had borne a good many similar
afflictions from Mrs. Harrington's friends, but it was too much that
they should be forced upon her just then.

"Where is Elsie?" cried the widow, with vivacious affection, shaking her
gay plumage like a canary bird in the sun.

"In her own room," replied Elizabeth. "Pray walk in, a