they did not know of
yet. Whereupon her husband lifted her from the carriage, and bore her,
without reply or comment of any kind, into the house.

Throughout the search Mr. Arbuton had been making up his mind that he
would part with his friends as soon as they found lodgings, give the day
to Quebec, and take the evening train for Gorham, thus escaping the
annoyances of a crowded hotel, and ending at once an acquaintance which
he ought never to have let go so far. As long as the Ellisons were
without shelter, he felt that it was due to himself not to abandon them.
But even now that they were happily housed, had he done all that
nobility obliged? He stood irresolute beside the carriage.

"Won't you come up and see where we live?" asked Kitty, hospitably.

"I shall be very glad," said Mr. Arbuton.

"My dear fellow," said the colonel, in the parlor, "I didn't engage a
room for you. I supposed you'd rather take your chances at the hotel."

"O, I'm going away to-night."

"Why, that's a pity!"

"Yes, I've no fancy for a cot-bed in the hotel parlor. But I don't quite
like to leave you here, after bringing this calamity upon you."

"O, don't mention that! I was the only one to blame. We shall get on
splendidly here."

Mr. Arbuton suffered a vague disappointment. At the bottom of his heart
was a formless hope that he might in some way be necessary to the
Ellisons in their adversity; or if not that, then that something might
entangle him further and compel his stay. But they seemed quite equal in
themselves to the situation; they were in far more comfortable quarters
than they could have hoped for, and plainly should want for nothing;
Fortune put on a smiling face, and bade him go free of them. He fancied
it a mocking smile, though, as he stood an instant silently weighing one
thing against another. The colonel was patiently waiting his motion;
Mrs. Ellison sat watching him from the sofa; Kitty moved about the room
with averted face,--a pretty domestic presence, a household priestess
ordering the temporary Penates. Mr. Arbuton opened his lips to say
farewell, but a god spoke through them,--inconsequently, as the gods for
the most part do, saying, "Besides, I suppose you've got all the rooms
here."

"O, as to that I don't know," answered the colonel, not recognizing the
language of inspiration, "let's ask." Kitty knocked a photograph-book
off the table, and Mrs. Ellison said, "Why, Kitty!" But nothing more was
spoken t