CHAPTER VII.

THE STEPMOTHER.

Rapidly the summer was passing away, and as autumn drew near the wise gossips of Glenwood began to whisper that the lady from the East was in danger of being supplanted in her rights by the widow, whose house Mr. Hamilton was known to visit two or three times each week.  But Lenora had always some plausible story on hand.  “Mother and the lady had been so intimate—­in fact, more than once rocked in the same cradle—­and ’twas no wonder Mr. Hamilton came often to a place where he could hear so much about her.”

So when business again took Mr. Hamilton to Albany suspicion was wholly lulled, and Walter, on his return from college, was told by Mag that her fears concerning Mrs. Carter were groundless.  During the spring Carrie had been confined to her bed, but now she seemed much better, and after Walter had been at home awhile he proposed that he and his sisters should take a traveling excursion, going first to Saratoga, thence to Lake Champlain and Montreal, and returning home by way of Canada and the Falls, This plan Mr. Hamilton warmly seconded, and when Carrie asked if he would not feel lonely he answered, “Oh, no; Willie and I will do very well while you are gone.”

“But who will stay with Willie evenings, when you are away?” asked Mag, looking her father steadily in the face.

Mr. Hamilton colored slightly, but after a moment replied:  “I shall spend my evenings at home.”

“’Twill be what he hasn’t done for many a week,” thought Mag, as she again busied herself with her preparations.

The morning came at last on which our travelers were to leave.  Kate Kirby had been invited to accompany them, but her mother would not consent.  “It would give people too much chance for talk,” she said; so Kate was obliged to content herself with going as far as the depot, and watching, until out of sight, the car which bore them away.

Upon the piazza stood the little group, awaiting the arrival of the carriage which was to convey them to the station.  Mr. Hamilton seemed unusually gloomy, and with folded arms paced up and down the long piazza, rarely speaking or noticing any one.

“Are you sorry we are going, father?” asked Carrie, going up to him.  “If you are I will gladly stay with you.”

Mr. Hamilton paused, and pushing back the fair hair from his daughter’s white brow, he kissed her tenderly, saying, “No, Carrie; I want you to go.  The journey will do you good, for you are getting too much the look your poor mother used to wear.”

Why thought he then of Carrie’s mother?  Was it because he knew that ere his child returned to him another would be in that mother’s place?  Anon, Margaret came near, and motioning Carrie away, Mr. Hamilton took his other daughter’s hand, and led her to the end of the piazza, where could easily be seen the little graveyard and tall white monument pointing toward the bright blue sky where dwelt the one whose grave that costly marble marked.