CHAPTER XIV.

Shocked as was Emily Winters at the sight of Andrew, bleeding in the hands of the watchman, and by the subsequent newspaper report of his bad conduct; and estranged from her early regard for him, as she had been, by these and other things that she had heard, the young girl could not entirely banish from her mind the image of the boy who had been to her so gentle and affectionate since the early and innocent days of childhood.  In spite of all her efforts to turn her thoughts away from him, they were ever turning toward him; and, as time passed on, and his long absence left all in doubt concerning his fate, his memory became to her something like a hallowed thing.

In passing on to the estate of womanhood, Emily, who possessed more than common beauty, attracted admirers, and from two or three of these she received offers of marriage.  But in each case the suitor had failed to win her heart, and she was too true a woman to give her hand to any one unless her heart could go also.

In at least one case her father took sides with the lover, and urged his suit with a degree of feeling that resulted in a partial estrangement of affection.  But he afterward had cause to be well satisfied with Emily’s decision in the case.

On the morning that had succeeded the day of Andrew Howland’s return to P—­, Emily Winters, who had long since ceased to think of the young man as alive, was informed that a gentleman had called, and wished to see her.

“Who is he?” was the natural inquiry.

“I don’t know,” replied the servant.

“You should have asked his name.”

“I did so, but he said that it was no matter.”

After making some slight change in her dress, Emily went down to the parlor.  As she entered, a gentleman arose and advanced a few steps toward her.

“Miss Winters!” said he, while he fixed his eyes intently on her face.

The young lady bowed slightly in return, while she looked at him inquiringly.

“You don’t know me?” said the stranger, with perceptible disappointment in his voice.

Emily dropped her eyes for a moment to the floor, and then lifted them again to his countenance.  There was a gentle suffusion on her face, as she slowly shook her head.

“I have seen you before,” she remarked, “but I cannot, at this moment, tell where.”

“Years have passed since we met,” replied the stranger, with something of sadness in his voice; “but I had hoped you would not forget me.”

As he spoke, he came nearer, and held out his hand, which Emily did not hesitate to take.

At the moment of this contact, a light flashed on the maiden’s face, and she exclaimed, with sudden emotion—­

“Andrew Howland!  Can it be?”

And she stepped back a pace or two, and sunk upon a chair.  Andrew did not relinquish her hand, but sat down by her side, replying, as he did so—­