“Be sure to telegraph us from New York, Edward, again as soon as possible after landing on the other side, and a third time when you have seen Lester and can report his exact condition,” was Mr. Dinsmore’s parting injunction, as with a most affectionate farewell he left them in the sleeping-car.

Mrs. Conly had joined them at the depot, according to promise.

All three retired at once to their berths, and Elsie wept herself to sleep, thinking of the dear ones left behind; especially the mother who had so tenderly cherished her from her birth and the sick little ones who, she feared, might not be there to welcome her return.  Thinking too of him to whom she was going, his probable suffering, and the dread possibility that at her journey’s end she should find only his grave.

They reached New York in good season, having met with no accident or detention.  The steamer would not leave for some hours, but it was Elsie’s desire to go directly on board.

“I think that will be your best plan,” said Mrs. Conly.  “You can then settle yourself in your state-room at once; and while Dinah unpacks what you will need on the voyage, you can lie in your berth and rest.  You are looking greatly fatigued.”

“You will come with us, Aunt Louise, will you not?” both the young people asked.

“No, I must see Virginia.  I shall have time for an hour’s chat with her and yet to reach the vessel some time before the hour fixed for her sailing.  Edward, you will see that my luggage is taken on board?”

“Certainly, aunt; but shall we not first drive to Virginia’s residence and leave you there?  And I return for you after seeing my sister and the luggage on board the steamer?”

“No, not at all!” she answered stiffly.  “I am obliged for your offer, but where would be the use?  You may tell Ben to call a hack for me.  I’ll have it wait at Virginia’s door and drive me to the wharf when I am ready to go.”

Edward, thinking he had never known her so considerate and kind, hastened to carry out her wishes, bidding Ben engage two hacks—­one for Mrs. Conly and another for themselves.

Consideration for her nephew and niece had nothing to do with Mrs. Conly’s plans and arrangements.  If, as she greatly feared, Virginia were living in other than aristocratic style, she would not for the world have it known among the relatives who had heard her boasts in regard to Virgie’s grand match; “so much better than Isa had been led into while under the care of her grandfather and uncle.”

She had never before heard of the street mentioned in Virginia’s last letter, and her heart misgave her as to its being one of the most fashionable for the abodes of the wealthy.  The curiously scrutinizing look and odd smile of the hack-driver when she gave him the address did not tend to reassure her.

“Drive me there as quickly as you can,” she ordered, drawing herself up and flashing an indignant glance at him.  “I have no time to waste.”