ocess with interested, and, at the
same time, amused eyes. I thought she looked as sorry as I felt myself
when that lank, villanous wig was again performing its office.

"Am I as well arranged as when we first met, Miss Warren? Do I appear
again the music-grinder?"

"I see no difference," returned the dear girl, laughing. How musical and
cheering to me were the sounds of her voice in that little burst of
sweet, feminine merriment. "Indeed, indeed, I do not think even Martha
could know you now, for the person you the moment before seemed."

"My disguise is, then, perfect. I was in hopes it left a little that my
friends might recognise, while it effectually concealed me from my
enemies."

"It does--oh! it does. Now I know who you are, I find no difficulty in
tracing in your features the resemblance to your portrait in the family
gallery, at the Nest. The eyes, too, cannot be altered without
artificial brows, and those you have not."

This was consoling; but all that time Mr. Warren and the party in front
had been forgotten. Perhaps it was excusable in two young persons thus
situated, and who had now known each other a week, to think more of what
was just then passing in the wagon, than to recollect the tribe that
was marching down the road, and the errand they were on. I felt the
necessity, however, of next consulting my companion as to our future
movements. Mary heard me in evident anxiety, and her purpose seemed
unsettled, for she changed colour under each new impulse of her
feelings.

"If it were not for one thing," she answered, after a thoughtful pause,
"I should insist on following my father."

"And what may be the reason of this change of purpose?"

"Would it be altogether safe for _you_, Mr. Littlepage, to venture again
among those misguided men?"

"Never think of me, Miss Warren. You see I have been among them already
undetected, and it is my intention to join them again, even should I
first have to take you home. Decide for yourself."

"I will, then, follow my father. My presence may be the means of saving
him from some indignity."

I was rejoiced at this decision, on two accounts; of which one might
have been creditable enough to me, while the other, I am sorry to say,
was rather selfish. I delighted in the dear girl's devotion to her
parent, and I was glad to have her company as long as possible that
morning. Without entering into a very close analysis of motives,
however, I drove down the road,