p, to the mountains of purity from
which she had come.

She revolved the possibilities of the future; and, provided the little
paper in her hand should verify her expectations, she resolved to
realize them. During the long hour in which she sat thinking, she
discounted the emotion which the little paper in her hand held for her,
so that, when she unfolded it and read it, she only kissed it, and
placed it in her bosom.

After dinner, she ordered her carriage. Then, thinking that it might be
recognized by Mr. Belcher, she changed her order, and sent to a public
stable for one that was not identified with herself; and then, so
disguising her person that in the evening she would not be known, she
ordered the driver to take her to Mr. Balfour's.

Mrs. Dillingham had met Mr. Balfour many times, but she had never,
though on speaking terms with her, cultivated Mrs. Balfour's
acquaintance, and that lady did not fail to show the surprise she felt
when her visitor was announced.

"I have made the acquaintance of your little ward," said Mrs.
Dillingham, "and we have become good friends. I enticed him into my
house to-day, and as I kept him a long time, I thought I would come over
and apologize for his absence."

"I did not know that he had been with you," said Mrs. Balfour, coolly.

"He could do no less than come to me when I asked him to do so," said
Mrs. Dillingham; "and I was entirely to blame for his remaining with me
so long. You ladies who have children cannot know how sweet their
society sometimes is to those who have none."

Mrs. Balfour was surprised. She saw in her visitor's eyes the evidence
of recent tears, and there was a moisture in them then, and a subdued
and tender tone to her voice which did not harmonize at all with her
conception of Mrs. Dillingham's nature and character. Was she trying her
arts upon her? She knew of her intimacy with Mr. Belcher, and naturally
connected the visit with that unscrupulous person's schemes.

Mrs. Balfour was soon relieved by the entrance of her husband, who
greeted Mrs. Dillingham in the old, stereotyped, gallant way in which
gentlemen were accustomed to address her. How did she manage to keep
herself so young? Would she be kind enough to give Mrs. Balfour the name
of her hair-dresser? What waters had she bathed in, what airs had she
breathed, that youth should clothe her in such immortal fashion?

Quite to his surprise, Mrs. Dillingham had nothing to say to this
badinag