“Well, never mind.  Bring me a glass of ice water from the cooler.”

He obeyed her, and when she had drank, took back the tumbler.

A porter came along and lighted the lamps in the cars, for it was now fast growing dark.

The train sped on.

Our travelers reached Baltimore late at night, changed cars at midnight for New York, and reached that city the next morning in time to secure the passage they had engaged.

At noon they sailed in the Arctic for Liverpool.

CHAPTER XI.

THE WILES OF THE SIREN.

When the bridal pair had started on their journey the wedding guests dispersed.

Old Aaron Rockharrt and his family returned to their town house.

The next morning Mr. Clarence went back to North End to look after the works.  Cadet Haught left for West Point.

Mr. Rockharrt and Mrs. Rothsay were alone in their city home.

Old Aaron Rockharrt continued to give dinners and suppers to noted politicians until the end of the session and the adjournment of the legislature.

The family returned to Rockhold in May.  Here they lived a very monotonous life, whose dullness and gloom pressed very heavily upon the young widow.

Mr. Rockharrt and Mr. Clarence rode out every day to the works and returned late in the afternoon.

Cora occupied herself in completing the biography of her late husband, which had been interrupted by the season in the city.

Mr. Clarence often spent twenty-four hours at North End looking after the interests of the firm, and eating and sleeping at the hotel.

Mr. Rockharrt came home every evening to dinner, but after dinner invariably shut himself up in his office and remained there until bedtime.

Cora’s evenings were as solitary as her mornings.  But a change was at hand.

One evening, on his return home, Mr. Rockharrt brought his own mail from the post office at North End.

After dinner, instead of retiring to his office as usual, he came into the drawing room and found Cora.

Dropping himself down in a large arm chair beside the round table, and drawing the moderator lamp nearer to him, he drew a letter from his breast pocket and said: 

“My dear, I have a very interesting communication here from Mrs. Stillwater—­Miss Rose Flowers that was, you know.”

“I know,” said Cora, coldly, and wondering what was coming next.

“Poor child!  She is a widow, thrown destitute upon the cold charities of the world again,” he continued.

Cora said nothing.  She was marveling to hear this harsh, cruel, relentless man speaking with so much pity, tenderness, and consideration for this adventuress.

“But I will read the letter to you,” he said, “and then I will tell you what I mean to do.”

“Very well, sir,” she replied, with much misgiving.