Had she enough money accessible to pay for a first-class passage?  Yes, amply even for two.  She had always been so passive and incapable of all matters of arrangement, that Mrs. Gould had never thought it worth while to keep watch over her possession of “the nerves and sinews of war,” being indeed unwilling to rouse her attention to the fact that she was paying the by no means moderate expenses of both her tyrants.

Janet found out all about the hours, secured—-as Elvira thought-—two first-class berths, met her when she crept like a guilty thing out of the hotel at New York, took her to the station, went with her to an outfitter to be supplied with necessaries for the voyage, for she had been obliged to abandon everything but a few valuables in her handbag, and saw her safely on board, introduced her to some kind friendly English people, then on some excuse of seeing the steward, left her, as Elvira found, to make the voyage alone!

It turned out that Janet had spoken to the gentleman of this party, and explained that her young cousin was going home alone, asking him to protect her on landing; and that she had come to London with them and been there put into a cab, giving the old address to Collingwood Street, where with much difficulty she had prevailed on the maid to let her in to await the return of the family.

Nothing so connected as this history came to the ears of Mrs. Brownlow or her children.  That evening they only heard fragments, much more that was utterly irrelevant, and much that was inexplic-able, all interspersed with inquiries and caresses and intent listening for Allen.  Elvira might not have acquired brains, but she had gained in sweetness and affection.  The face had lost its soulless, painted-doll expression, and she was evidently happy beyond all measure to be among those she could love and trust, sitting on a footstool by Mrs. Brownlow’s knee, leaning against her, and now and then murmuring:  “O Mother Carey, how I have longed for you!”

She was not free from the fear that Lisette and Gilbert could still “do something to her,” but the Johns made large assurances of defence, and Mr. Wakefield was to be called in the next day.  It must be confessed that everybody rather enjoyed the notion of the pair left at Saratoga with all their hotel bills to pay, and the wedding-dress on their hands, but Elvira knew they had enough to clear them for the week, and only hoped it was not enough to enable them to follow her.

Fragments of all this came out in the course of the evening.  Allen did not come home to dinner, and the other young men left the coast clear for confidences, which were uttered in the intervals of listening, till after all her excitement, her landing and her journey, Elvira was so tired out that she had actually dropped asleep, with her head on Mother Carey’s knee, when his soft weary step came up the stairs, and perceiving, as he entered, that there was a hush