Never doubting his wife’s word, Mr. Livingstone was satisfied, and nothing more was said upon the subject.  Business of importance made it necessary for him to go for a few weeks to New Orleans, and he was now on his way thither, his wife having accompanied him as far as Frankfort, where he took the boat, while she returned home.  When ’Lena left the room after learning that she had no part in the mass of Christmas finery, she repaired to the arbor bridge, where she had wept so bitterly on the first day of her arrival, and which was now her favorite resort.  For a time she sat watching the leaping waters, swollen by the winter rains, and wondering if it were not possible that they started at first from the pebbly spring which gushed so cool and clear from the mountain-side near her old New England home.  This reminded her of where and what she was now—­a dependent on the bounty of those who wished her away, and who almost every day of her life made her feel it so keenly, too.  Not one among them loved her except Anna, and would not her affection change as they grew older?  Then her thoughts took another direction.

Durward Bellmont was coming—­but did she wish to see him?  Could she bear the sneering remarks which she knew Carrie would make concerning herself?  And how would he be affected by them?  Would he ask her of her father? and if so, what had she to say?

Many a time had she tried to penetrate the dark mystery of her birth, but her grandmother was wholly non-committal.  Once, too, when her uncle seemed kinder than usual, she had ventured to ask him of her father, and with a frown he had replied, that “the least she knew of him the better!” Still ’Lena felt sure that he was a good man, and that some time or other she would find him.

All day long the clouds had been threatening rain, which began to fall soon after ’Lena entered the arbor, but so absorbed was she in her own thoughts, that she did not observe it until her clothes were perfectly dampened; then starting up, she repaired to the house.  For several days she had not been well, and this exposure brought on a severe cold, which confined her to her room for nearly two weeks.  Meantime the dress-making process went on, Anna keeping ’Lena constantly apprised of its progress, and occasionally wearing in some article for her inspection.  This reminded ’Lena of her own wardrobe, and knowing that it would not be attended to while she was sick, she made such haste to be well, that on Thursday at tea-time she took her accustomed seat at the table.  After supper she lingered awhile in the parlor, hoping something would be said, but she waited in vain, and was about leaving, when a few words spoken by Carrie in an adjoining room caught her ear and arrested her attention.

They were—­“And so ’Lena came down to-night.  I dare say she thinks you’ll set Miss Simpson at work upon my old delaine.”

“Perhaps so,” returned Mrs. Livingstone, “but I don’t see how Miss Simpson can do it, unless you put off having that silk apron embroidered.”