for Europe, and perhaps he
had returned. She would go to him. Though he could not undo the wrong he
had done, he still could aid and pity her. She asked the route to
Boston, and after a light meal, was on the way thither.

She arrived after dark, and was driven to the Marlboro Hotel--that
Eastern Eden for lone women and tobacco-eschewing men--and there she
passed the night. Though weak from recent illness, and worn and wearied
with the long journey, she could not rest or sleep. The great sorrow
that had fallen on her had driven rest from her heart, and quiet sleep
from her eye-lids forever. In the morning she inquired the way to
Russell, Rollins & Co.'s, and after a long search found the grim, old
warehouse. She started to go up the rickety old stairs, but her heart
failed her. She turned away and wandered off through the narrow, crooked
streets--she did not know for how long. She met the busy crowd hurrying
to and fro, but no one noticed or cared for her. She looked at the neat,
cheerful homes smiling around her, and she thought how every one had
shelter and friends but her. She gazed up at the cold, gray sky, and oh!
how she longed that it might fall down and bury her forever. And still
she wandered till her limbs grew weary and her heart grew faint. At last
she sank down exhausted, and wept--wept as only the lost and the utterly
forsaken can weep. Some little boys were playing near, and after a time
they left their sports, and came to her. They spoke kindly to her, and
it gave her strength. She rose and walked on again. A livery-carriage
passed her, and she spoke to the coachman. After a long hour she stood
once more before the old warehouse. It was late in the afternoon, and
she had eaten nothing all day, and was very faint and tired. As she
turned to go up the old stairway, her heart again failed her, but
summoning all her strength, she at last entered the old counting-room.

A tall, spare, pleasant-faced man, was standing at the desk, and she
asked him if Mr. John Hallet was there.

'No, madam, he's in Europe.'

'When will he come back, sir?'

'Not for a year, madam;' and David raised his glasses and looked at her.
He had not done it before.

Her last hope had failed, and with a heavy, crushing pain in her heart,
and a dull, dizzy feeling in her head, she turned to go. As she
staggered away a hand was gently placed on her arm, and a mild voice
said:

'You are ill, madam; sit down.'

She took the proffer