nigh to forty, was still a girl.) "I
would not stoop to doubt him, sir." Yet, on the other hand, Mr.
Bowdoin would probably have never condoned a theft, once discovered;
and James Bowdoin wasted his time in hinting they might make it good.

"Confound it, sir," said the father, "it's the making it good to
Jamie, not the making it good to us, that counts,--don't you see?"

"You do suspect him, then?"

"Not a bit,--not one whit, sir!" cried the father. "I know him better.
And I hate a low, suspicious habit of mind, sir, with all my heart!"

"You once said, sir, years ago (do you remember?), that but one
thing--love--could make a man like Jamie go wrong."

"I said a lot of d----d fool things, sir, when I was bringing you up,
and the consequences are evident." And Mr. Bowdoin slammed out of the
breakfast-room where this conversation took place.

But no word came from Harleston, and the old gentleman's temper grew
more execrable every day. Again the bank directors met, and again at
his request--this time avowedly on account of McMurtagh's illness--the
reorganization and examination were postponed. And at last, the very
day before the next meeting, there came a telegram from Harley in New
York. It said this only:--

"Landed to-day. Arrive to-morrow morning. Found."

* * * * *

"Now why the deuce can't he say what he's found and who's with him?"
complained old Mr. Bowdoin to his wife and son for the twentieth time,
that next morning.

Breakfast was over, and they were waiting for Harley to arrive. Mrs.
Bowdoin went on with her work in silence.

"And why the devil is the train so late? I must be at the bank at
eleven. Do you suppose she's with him?"

"How is Jamie?" said Mrs. Bowdoin only in reply.

"Much the same. Do you think--do you think"--

"I am afraid so, James," said the old lady. "Harley would have said"--

"There he comes!" cried Mr. Bowdoin from the window. Father and son
ran to the door, in the early spring morning, and saw a carriage stop,
and Harley step out of it, and then--a little girl.

XIII.

The image of Mercedes she was; and the old gentleman caught her up and
kissed her. He had a way with all children; and James thought this
little maid was just as he remembered her mother, that day, now so
long gone, on the old Long Wharf, when the sailing-vessel came in from
the harbor,--the day he was engaged to marry his Abby. Old Mrs.
Bowdoin stood beside, rub