“Oh,” said she, forgetting, for the moment, the unpleasant circumstances by which she was surrounded, and turning to the man as she spoke, “have you seen anything of my son—­of Mr. Howland’s son—­about here to-night?”

“Mrs. Howland!  Is it possible!” replied the man, in a respectful voice.  Then he added, “I saw him go down the street about half an hour ago.”

“Did you!  And do you know where he has gone?”

“No, ma’am.  He passed on out of sight.”

A low moan escaped the mother’s lips at this intelligence.  A few moments she stood silent, and then placed her hand upon the bell-pull and rung for admittance.

“Is the door locked?” asked the watchman, manifesting surprise.

“No; the wind blew it to, and it has become fastened with the dead-latch.”

Both stood silent for some time, but no one answered the bell.  The night dews were falling upon the mother’s head, and the night air penetrating her thin garments.  A shiver ran through her frame, and she felt a constriction of the chest as if she had inhaled sulphur.  Again she rung the bell.

“Does no one know of your being out?” asked the watchman.

“All are asleep in the house,” replied Mrs. Howland.

At this the watchman came up the steps, and struck two or three heavy blows upon the door with his mace, the sound of which went reverberating through the house, and startling Mr. Howland from his slumber.  But not perceiving immediately that his wife was absent from her place by his side, and thinking that his son had renewed his efforts to gain admission, the latter did not make a motion to rise.  In a few moments, however, the repeated strokes of the mace, to which was added the loud call of a man in the street below caused him to start up in bed.  He then perceived that his wife was not by his side.  With an exclamation, he sprang upon the floor, and throwing up the window, called out—­

“Who’s there?”

“Come down and open the door,” was answered by the watchman.

“Who wants to come in?” asked Mr. Howland, his mind beginning by this time to get a little clear from the confusion into which it was at first thrown.

“I do,” replied a voice that threw all into bewilderment again.

“Bless me!  What does this mean!” exclaimed Mr. Howland, aloud, yet speaking to himself.

“Open the door, quickly,” called out Mrs. Howland, in a tone of distress.  “Come down and let me in.”

Hurriedly Mr. Howland now dressed himself and went down.  As he opened the door, his wife glided past him, and ran up stairs.  The watchman retired without speaking to the confused and astonished husband, who, recovering his presence of mind, reclosed the door and followed his wife to their chamber.

“Esther!  What is the meaning of all this?” asked Mr. Howland, with much severity of manner.

But there was no reply.

“Will you speak?” said he, in a tone of authority.