“I shall be all the more welcome, at any rate.”

“I don’t know whether that is possible, in Karen’s case.  But did you know she wanted you? —­ did you know she was ill?”

“Do you suppose nothing but an errand of mercy could bring me?” he answered slightly, though with a little opening of the eyes which Elizabeth afterwards remembered and speculated upon.  But for the present she was content with the pleasant implication of his words.  Clam was ordered to bring refreshments.  These Winthrop declined; he had had all he wanted.  Then Elizabeth asked if he would like to see Karen.

She opened the door, which she had taken care to shut, and went in with him.

“Karen —­ here is the Governor, that you were wishing for.”

The old woman turned her face towards them; then stretched out her hand, and spoke with an accent of satisfied longing that went at least to one heart.

“I thought he’d come,” she said.  “Governor! —­”

Winthrop leaned over to speak to her and take her hand.  Elizabeth longed to hear what he would say, but she had no business there; she went out, softly closing the door.

She was alone then; and she stood on the hearth before the fire in a little tumult of pleasure, thinking how she should dispose of her guest and what she might do for him.

“Once more I have a chance,” she thought; “and I may never in the world have another —­ He will not come here again before I go back to Mannahatta, he cannot stay in my house there, —­ and another summer is very far off, and very uncertain.  He’ll not be very likely to come here —­ he may be married —­ and I am very sure I shall not want to see his wife here —­ I shall not do it. —­ Though I might ask her for his sake —­ No!  I should better break with him at once and have no more to do with him; it would be only misery.”  “And what is it now?” said something else.  And “Not misery” —­ was the answer.

“Where will I put him, Miss ’Lizabeth?” said the voice of Clam softly at her elbow.  Elizabeth started.

“You must take my room.  I will sleep with Mrs. Haye.  Clam —­ what have we got in the house? and what can you do in the way of cooking?”

“I can do some things —­ for some folks,” said Clam.  “Wa’n’t my cream gravy good the other day?”

“Cream gravy! —­ with what?”

“Fresh lamb, —­ mutton, I would say.”

“But you have got no fresh mutton now, have you?”

“Maybe Mr. Underhill has,” said Clam with a twinkle of her bright eye.

“Mr. Underhill’s fresh mutton is on the other side of the river.  What have we got on this side?”

“Pretty much of nothing,” said Clam, “this side o’ Mountain Spring.  Anderese ain’t no good but to make the fire —­ it takes mor’n him to find somethin’ to put over it.”

“Then you’ll have to go to Mountain Spring before breakfast, Clam.”

“Well, m’m.  Who’ll take care of the house while I’m gone, Miss ’Lizabeth?”