Ben was chatting with father over the fire; he stretched out his hand to her, with so firm and assured an air, and looked so noble, that I felt a pang of admiration for him.  She laid her hand in his a moment, passed on to the piano, and began to play divinely, drawing him to her side.  Father peeled and twisted his cigar, as he contemplated them with a thoughtful countenance.

CHAPTER XXVII.

When we went to Boston we went to a new hotel, as Ben had advised, deserting the old Bromfield for the Tremont.  It was dusk when we arrived, and tea was served immediately, in a large room full of somber mahogany furniture.  Its atmosphere oppressed Veronica, who ate her supper in silence.

“Charles Dickens is here, sir,” said the waiter, who knew Ben.  “Two models of the Curiosity Shop have just gone upstairs, sir.  His room is right over here, sir.”

Veronica looked adoringly at the ceiling.

“Then,” said Ben, “our hunters are up from Belem.  Anybody in from Belem, John?”

“Oh yes, sir, every day.”

“I’ll look them up,” he said to us; but he returned soon, and begged us not to look at Dickens, if we had a chance.

Veronica, with a sigh, gave him up, and lost a chance of being immortalized with that perpetual and imperturbable beefsteak, covered with “the blackest of all possible pepper,” which was daily served to him.

Father being out in pursuit of a cigar, Ben asked Veronica what she would do while he was in Belem.

“Walk round this lion-clawed table.”

“I shall be gone from you.”

“Alas!”

“Are we to part this way?”

“Father,” she cried, as he entered with a theater bill, “had I better marry this friend of Cassy’s?”

“Have you the courage?  Do you know each other?”

“Having known Cassandra so long, sir,” began Ben, but was interrupted by Veronica’s exclaiming, “We do not know each other at all.  What is the use of making that futile attempt?  I am over eighteen, and do you know me, father?”

“If I do not, it is because you have no shadow.”

“Shall I, then?” giving Ben a delicious smile.  “I promise.”

“I promise, too, Veronica,” heaven dawning in his eyes.

“We will see about it,” said father.  “Now who will go to the theater?”

We declined, but Ben signified his willingness to accompany him.

We took the first morning train, so that father could return before evening, and ran through in the course of an hour the wooden suburbs of Belem, bordered by an ancient marsh, from which the sea had long retired.  Taking a cab, we turned into Norfolk Street, at the head of which, Ben said, a mile distant, was his father’s house.  It was not a cheerful street, and when we stopped before an immense square, three-storied house, it looked still more gloomy!  There was a gate on one side, with white wooden urns on the posts, that shut off a paved courtway.  On each side of the street were houses of the same pattern, with the same gates.  Down the paved court of the opposite house a coach pulled by two fat horses clattered, and as the coach turned we saw two old ladies inside, highly dressed, bowing and smiling at Ben.