Her father had not the heart to make any objection, and the next day they started for Philadelphia.  They despatched a note to Clarence, saying they had arrived, which Emily received, and after opening it, went to gently break its contents to her brother.

“You must prepare yourself for visitors, Clary,” said she, “no doubt some of our friends will call to-day, the weather is so very delightful.”

“Do you know who is coming?” he inquired.

“Yes, dear,” she answered, seating herself beside him, “I have received a note stating that a particular friend will call to-day—­one that you desire to see.”

“Ah!” he exclaimed, “it is little Birdie, is it not?”

“Yes,” she replied, “they have arrived in town, and will be here to-day.”

“Did not I tell you so?” said he, triumphantly.  “I knew she would come.  I knew it,” continued he, joyfully.  “Let me get up—­I am strong enough—­she is come—­O! she has come.”

Clarence insisted on being dressed with extraordinary care.  His long fierce-looking beard was trimmed carefully, and he looked much better than he had done for weeks; he was wonderfully stronger, walked across the room, and chatted over his breakfast with unusual animation.

At noon they came, and were shown into the drawing-room, where Emily received them.  Mr. Bates bowed politely, and expressed a hope that Mr. Garie was better.  Emily held out her hand to little Birdie, who clasped it in both her own, and said, inquiringly:  “You are his sister?”

“Yes,” answered Emily.  “You, I should have known from Clarence’s description—­you are his little Birdie?”

She did not reply—­her lip quivered, and she pressed Emily’s hand and kissed her.  “He is impatient to see you,” resumed Emily, “and if you are so disposed, we will go up immediately.”

“I will remain here,” observed Mr. Bates, “unless Mr. Garie particularly desires to see me.  My daughter will accompany you.”

Emily took the hand of little Birdie in her own, and they walked together up the stairway.  “You must not be frightened at his appearance,” she remarked, tearfully, “he is greatly changed.”

Little Birdie only shook her head—­her heart seemed too full for speech—­and she stepped on a little faster, keeping her hand pressed on her breast all the while.

When they reached the door, Emily was about to open it, but her companion stopped her, by saying:  “Wait a moment—­stop!  How my heart beats—­it almost suffocates me.”  They paused for a few moments to permit little Birdie to recover from her agitation, then throwing open the door they advanced into the room.

“Clarence!” said his sister.  He did not answer; he was looking down into the garden.  She approached nearer, and gently laying her hand on his shoulder, said, “Here is your little Birdie, Clarence.”  He neither moved nor spoke.