that the post-office would henceforth be above suspicion, and
their letters and papers safe from, desecration. Only Marian said:

"What will become of the poor old creature?"

"By St. Judas Iscariot, that's her business."

"No, indeed, I think it is ours; some provision should be made for her,
Commodore Waugh."

"I'll recommend her to the trustees of the almshouse, Miss Mayfield."

Marian thought it best not to pursue the subject then, but resolved to
embrace the first opportunity of appealing to the commodore's smothered
chivalry in behalf of a woman, old, poor, feeble, and friendless.

During the supper Dr. Grimshaw sat up as stiff and solemn--Jacquelina
said--"as if he'd swallowed the poker and couldn't digest it." When they
rose from the table, and were about leaving the dining-room, Dr.
Grimshaw glided in a funereal manner to the side of the commodore, and
demanded a private interview with him.

"Not to-night, Nace! Not to-night! I know by your looks what it is! It
is some new deviltry of Jacquelina's. That can wait! I'm as sleepy as a
whole cargo of opium! I would not stop to talk now to Paul Jones, if he
was to rise from the dead and visit me!"

And the professor had to be content with that, for almost immediately
the family separated for the night.

Marian, attended by the maid Maria, sought the chamber assigned to
herself. When she had changed her tight-fitting day-dress for a wrapper,
she dismissed the girl, locked the door behind her, and then drew her
chair up before the little fire, and fell into deep thought. Many causes
of anxiety pressed heavily upon Marian. That Thurston had repented his
hasty marriage with herself she had every reason to believe.

She had confidently hoped that her explanation with Thurston would have
resulted in good--but, alas! it seemed to have had little effect. His
attentions to Miss Le Roy were still unremitted--the young lady's
partiality was too evident to all--and people already reported them to
be engaged.

And now, as Marian sat by her little wood-fire in her chamber at
Luckenough, bitter, sorrowful questions, arose in her mind. Would he
persist in his present course? No, no, it could not be! This was
probably done only to pique herself; but then it was carried too far; it
was ruining the peace of a good, confiding girl. And Jacquelina--she had
evidently mistaken Dr. Grimshaw for Thurston, and addressed to him words
arguing a familiarity very improper, to say th