station, for the sake of retaining his entire seat, and sometimes if
the crowd was great, going so far as to snore loudly!

And thus they proceeded onward, Nellie never suspecting the close
espionage kept upon her by John Jr., who once in the night, at a
crowded depot, passed so closely to her that he felt her warm breath on
his cheek. And when, on the morning of the 15th, she sailed, she
little thought who it was that followed her down to the water's edge,
standing on the last spot where she had stood, and watching with a
swelling heart the vessel which bore her away.

"I'm nothing better than a walking dead man, now," said he, as he,
retraced his steps back to his hotel. "Nellie's gone, and with her all
for which I lived, for she's the only girl except 'Lena who isn't a
libel on the sex--or, yes--there's Anna--does as well as she knows
how--and there's Mabel, a little simpleton, to be sure, but amiable and
good-natured, and on the whole, as smart as they'll average. 'Twas
kind in her, anyway, to offer to pay 'Lena's music bills."

And with these reflections, John Jr. sought out the men whom he had
come to see, transacted his business, and then started for home, where
he found his mother in unusually good spirits. Matters thus far had
succeeded even beyond her most sanguine expectations. Nellie was gone
to Europe, and the rest she fancied would be easy. 'Lena, too, was
gone, but the result of this was not what she had hoped. Durward had
been at Maple Grove but once since 'Lena left, while she had heard of
his being in Frankfort several times.

"Something must be done"--her favorite expression and in her difficulty
she determined to call upon Mrs. Graham, whom she had not seen since
Christmas. "It is quite time she knew about the gray pony, as well as
other matters," thought she, and ordering the carriage, she set out one
morning for Woodlawn, intending to spend the day if she found its
mistress amiably disposed, which was not always the case.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE VISIT.

Mrs. Graham reclined upon a softly-cushioned sofa, her tasteful lace
morning-cap half falling from her head, and her rich cashmere gown
flowing open, so as to reveal the flounced cambric skirt which her
sewing-girl had sat up till midnight to finish. A pair of delicate
French slippers pinched rather than graced her fat feet, one of which
angrily beat the carpet, as if keeping time to its mistress' thoughts.
Nervous and uncomfortabl