nor boisterous; they were most of the time little underbreath words said to herself, words seemingly that she could not help, the good of which she took and meant for nobody else’s edification.  They were however very disagreeable and troublesome to Elizabeth’s ears and thoughts; she had half a mind to ask Karen to stop them; but the next sighing “That’s true!” —­ checked her; if it was such a comfort to the old woman to hold counsel with herself, and Elizabeth could offer nothing better, the least she could do was to let her alone.  And then Elizabeth grew accustomed to it; and at last thoughts wandered a little by turns to take up their new trade of wondering at herself and at the new, unwonted life she seemed beginning to lead.  There was a singular pleasantness in what she was doing; she found a grave sweet consciousness of being about the right work; but presently to her roving spirit the question arose whether this, —­ this new and certainly very substantial pleasure, —­ were perhaps the chief kind she was hereafter to look forward to, or find in this life; —­ and Elizabeth’s heart confessed to a longing desire for something else.  And then her attention suddenly came back to poor Karen at her side saying, softly, “Bless the Lord, O my soul!” —­ Elizabeth stopped short; she was choked.

At this juncture Clam noiselessly presented herself.

“He’s come, Miss ’Lizabeth.”

The start that Miss Haye’s inward spirits gave at this, was not to be seen at all on the outside.  She looked at Clam, but she gave no sign that her words had been understood.  Yet Elizabeth had understood them so well, that she did not even think at first to ask the question, and when she did, it was for form’s sake, who had come?  Probably Clam knew as much, for she only repeated her words.

“He’s come.  What’ll I do with him, Miss ’Lizabeth?”

“Where is he?”

“He ain’t come yet —­ he’s comin’.”

“Coming when?  And what do you mean by saying he is come?”

“I don’t mean nothin’ bad,” said Clam.  “He’s just a comin’ up the walk from the boat —­ I see him by the moon.”

“See who it is, first, before you do anything with him; and then you can bring me word.”

Elizabeth closed her book however, in some little doubt what she should do with herself.  She knew, —­ it darted into her mind, —­ that it would please Winthrop to find her there; that it would meet his approbation; and then with the stern determination that motives of self-praise, if they came into her head should not come into her life, she hurried out and across the kitchen and hid her book in her own room.  Then came out into the kitchen and stood waiting for the steps outside and for the opening of the door.

“You are come in good time,” she said, as she met and answered Winthrop’s offered hand.

“I am glad I am in time,” he said.

“Karen has been wishing for you particularly to-night —­ but I don’t know that that is any sign, except to the superstitious, that she is in particular danger.”