w
only on the New England coast.

It was the sort of night that makes one forced to be out look forward
lovingly to home, and think pityingly of the unfortunate, while those
within doors involuntarily thank God for comfort, and hug at whatever
remnant of happiness living has left them.

The railway station was crowded.

The storm had come up suddenly at the close of a fair day. It was the
hour, too, at which tradespeople, clerks, and laborers were returning
home to the suburbs, and at which the steamboat express for New York
was being made up--although it was not an encouraging night for the
latter trip.

The pretty young woman with the red hair had looked through the door
near the tracks, and glanced to the right, where the New York express
should be. The gate was still closed. She was much too early! For a
second she hesitated. She glanced about quickly, and the look was not
without apprehension. It was evident that she did not see the man who
was following her, and who seemed to have been waiting for her near
the outer door. He did not speak, nor attract her attention in any
way. The crowd served him in that!

After a moment's hesitation, she turned toward the ladies' waiting
room, and just as she was about to enter, the man behind addressed
her--and the word was said so low that no one near heard it--though,
by the start she gave, it might have been a pistol shot.

"Dora!"

She stood perfectly still. The color died out of her face; but only
for an instant. She looked alarmed, then perplexed, and then she
smiled. She was evidently a young woman of resources.

The man was a stalwart handsome fellow of his class--though it was
almost impossible to guess what that was save that it was not that
which the world labels by exterior signs "gentleman." He might easily
have been some sort of a mechanic. He was certainly neither a clerk
nor the follower of any of the unskilled professions. He was surely
countrybred, for there was a largeness in his expression as well as
his bearing that spoke distinctly of broad vistas and exercise. He was
tall and broad-shouldered. He stood well on his feet, hampered as
little by his six feet of height and fourteen stone weight as he was
by the size of his hands. One would have easily backed him to ride
well and shoot straight, though he probably never saw the inside of
what is called a "drawing-room."

There was the fire of a mighty emotion in his deep-set eyes. There
were signs