CHAPTER XV.

AT THE ACADEMY.

It was a splendid May morning.  Our travelers were out of bed at half-past four o’clock.  The sun was just rising when they sat down to their early breakfast.

Mr. Rockharrt seemed stronger and brighter than he had been since his arrival in New York.

The Sabbath day’s complete rest had certainly refreshed him.

Immediately after breakfast they left the hotel, entered the carriage which had been engaged for them and drove to the Hudson River depot.

“There’s the dean!” exclaimed Mr. Rockharrt, as they entered the waiting room.  “He must be going on the same train with us.”

Rose Stillwater did not start or change color this time.  She had prepared herself for contingencies by taking a dose of morphine just before she left the hotel.  But she drew her veil closely over her face, murmuring that the brightness of the sun hurt her eyes.

Cora looked up and saw the tall, thin form of the church dignitary standing with a group of gentlemen near the gate leading to the train.

The waiting room was crowded; a multitude was moving toward West Point.

“It is well I engaged our rooms a week ago, or we might not have found accommodations,” said Mr. Rockharrt, as he pressed with his party behind the crowd.

Among the group of gentlemen surrounding the dean, was a Wall Street broker with whom old Aaron Rockharrt had been doing business for the last few days.

This man was standing beside the dean, and both stood immediately in front of Mr. Rockharrt and his party.

Presently the broker turned and saw the Iron King.

“Oh, Mr. Rockharrt.  Happy to meet you here.  Going to the Point, as everybody else is?  Fine day.”

“Yes; a fine day,” responded the Iron King.

At this moment the dean happened to turn his head.

“You know the Dean of Olivet, of course, Mr. Rockharrt?”

“No; I have not that pleasure.”

“Let me present you.  Dean of Olivet, Mr. Rockharrt.”

Both gentlemen bowed.

The Iron King held out his hand.

“Happy to welcome you to America, Dean.  Went to hear you preach yesterday morning.  One of the finest sermons I ever heard in my life, I do assure you.”

The dean bowed very gravely.

“Let me present you to my granddaughter, Mrs. Rothsay,” said the old man.

The dean bowed gravely to the young lady, who bent her head.

“And to our friend, Mrs. Stillwater,” continued the old gentleman, waving his hand again.  “Why, where is she?  Why, Cora, where is Mrs. Stillwater?” demanded the Iron King in amazement.

“I do not know.  I have just missed her,” said the young lady.

“Well, upon my soul!  For the power of vanishing she excels all living creatures.  Pray, Cora, does she carry a fairy cap in her pocket, and put it on when she wishes to make herself invisible?”