Edgar Goodfellow had suddenly made his appearance for the first time in many moons. A change was the thing they all needed, he told himself.  In change there was hope!

He placed Mother Clemm and “Catalina” temporarily with some friends of the “City of Brotherly Love” who had invited them, and accompanied by his Virginia who was looking less wan than for long past, fared forth, in the highest spirits, to seek, for the second time a home in New York.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

New York once more!  They went by rail to Amboy and the remaining forty miles by steamboat.

Certain cities, like certain persons, are witches; they have power to cast a spell.  New York is one of them.

Edgar and Virginia Poe had known hard times in New York—­the bitterness of hard times in a city large enough for each man to mind his own business and leave his neighbors to mind theirs.  Yet as the boat slowed down and neared the wharf, and—­past the shipping—­they descried the houses and spires of town looming, ghostlike, through the enveloping mist of the soft, grey April day, it was with a thrill that these two standing hand in hand—­like children—­upon the deck, clasped each other’s fingers with closer pressure and whispered,

“New York once more!”

It was their first little journey in the world just together, just they two, and much as they loved the dear mother—­their kind earthly Providence, as they laughingly called her—­there was something very sweet about it.  It was almost like a wedding journey.  The star of hope which never deserted them for long, no matter what their disappointments and griefs might be, shone bright above their horizon—­their beautiful faces reflected its light.  By it the lines of care and bitterness seemed suddenly to have been smoothed out of Edgar’s face, and under its influence Virginia’s merry laugh rippled out upon the moist air, causing the eyes of her fellow-travellers to turn admiringly her way many times.

Her husband hovered tenderly near her, drawing her shawl with solicitous hand closer about her shoulders and standing upon the windward side of her to protect her from the damp and keen breeze.  He noted with delight the fresh color of her cheeks—­the life and color in her eyes.

“Do you know, Sweetheart,” he said, “You have not coughed once since we left Philadelphia!  The change is doing you good already.”

Both were blythe as birds.  As the boat tied up at the wharf a gentle shower set in, but it did not effect their spirits.  He left her on board with some ladies whose acquaintance she had made during the journey, while he fared forth in the rain in quest of a boarding-house.  As he stepped ashore he met a man selling second-hand umbrellas.  He bought quite a substantial one for sixty-two cents and went on his way rejoicing in the lucky meeting and the good bargain.