“It is a late hour for her to be from home, and we not apprized of where she is,” the father remarked anxiously.

“It is, indeed.  She has rarely stayed out later than nine o’clock.”

“Who has been in the habit of coming home with her?”

“Usually Mrs. Martindale has accompanied her home, and this fact has thrown me off my guard.”

“It should have put you on your guard; for a woman like Mrs. Martindale, gossiping about as she does, night after night, with young folks, cannot, it seems to me, have the best ends in view.”

“She seems to be a very well-disposed woman.”

“That is true.  And yet I have been several times persuaded that she was one of the detestable tribe of match-makers”

“Surely not.”

“I am afraid that it is too true.  And if it be so, Mary is in dangerous company.”

“Indeed she is.  From this time forth we must guard her more carefully.  Of all things in the world, I dread an improper marriage for Mary.  If she should throw away her affections upon an unworthy object, how sad would be her condition!  Her gentle spirit, wounded in the tenderest part, would fail, and droop, and pine away in hopeless sorrow.  Some women have a strength of character that enables them to rise superior, in a degree, to even such an affliction; but Mary could not bear it.”

“I feel deeply the truth of what you say,” replied Mr. Lester.  “Her affections are ardent, and easily called out.  We have been to blame in not thinking more seriously of this matter before.”

“I wish she would come home!  It is growing far too late for her to be absent,” the mother said, in a voice of anxious concern.

Then succeeded a long and troubled silence, which continued until the clock struck eleven.

“Bless me! where can she be?” ejaculated Mr. Lester, rising and beginning to pace the floor with hurried steps.

This he continued to do for nearly a quarter of an hour, when he paused, and said—­

“Do you know where Mrs. Martindale lives?”

“At No.—­Pearl street.”

“No doubt she can tell where Mary is.”

“I think it more than probable.”

“Then I will see her at once.”

“Had you not better wait a little longer?  I should be sorry to attract attention, or cause remark about the matter, which would be the result, if it got out that you went in search of her after eleven o’clock at night.”

This had the effect to cause Mr. Lester to wait little longer.  But when the clock struck twelve, he could restrain himself no further.  Taking up his hat, he hurried off in the direction of Mrs. Martindale’s.

“Is Mrs. Martindale at home?” he asked of the servant, who, after he had rung three or four times, found her way to the door.

“No, sir,” was the reply.

“Where is she?”

“I do not know, sir.”

“Will she be here to-night?”