ould take in my card, and that you would put your
heads together, before admitting me, and make out my identity."

Gertrude had been wondering with a quick intensity which brought
its result; and the result seemed an answer--a wondrous, delightful
answer--to her vague wish that something would befall her. "I know--I
know," she said. "You come from Europe."

"We came two days ago. You have heard of us, then--you believe in us?"

"We have known, vaguely," said Gertrude, "that we had relations in
France."

"And have you ever wanted to see us?" asked the young man.

Gertrude was silent a moment. "I have wanted to see you."

"I am glad, then, it is you I have found. We wanted to see you, so we
came."

"On purpose?" asked Gertrude.

The young man looked round him, smiling still. "Well, yes; on purpose.
Does that sound as if we should bore you?" he added. "I don't think we
shall--I really don't think we shall. We are rather fond of wandering,
too; and we were glad of a pretext."

"And you have just arrived?"

"In Boston, two days ago. At the inn I asked for Mr. Wentworth. He must
be your father. They found out for me where he lived; they seemed often
to have heard of him. I determined to come, without ceremony. So, this
lovely morning, they set my face in the right direction, and told me to
walk straight before me, out of town. I came on foot because I wanted to
see the country. I walked and walked, and here I am! It 's a good many
miles."

"It is seven miles and a half," said Gertrude, softly. Now that this
handsome young man was proving himself a reality she found herself
vaguely trembling; she was deeply excited. She had never in her life
spoken to a foreigner, and she had often thought it would be delightful
to do so. Here was one who had suddenly been engendered by the Sabbath
stillness for her private use; and such a brilliant, polite, smiling
one! She found time and means to compose herself, however: to remind
herself that she must exercise a sort of official hospitality. "We are
very--very glad to see you," she said. "Won't you come into the house?"
And she moved toward the open door.

"You are not afraid of me, then?" asked the young man again, with his
light laugh.

She wondered a moment, and then, "We are not afraid--here," she said.

"Ah, comme vous devez avoir raison!" cried the young man, looking all
round him, appreciatively. It was the first time that Gertrude had heard
so many words of French