A day or two after Mellen's departure, Elizabeth, who was taking her solitary promenade on the veranda, was surprised by a visit from Mrs. Harrington, who came fluttering across the lawn between two gentlemen, with whom she seemed carrying on a right and left flirtation. She came up the steps with her flounces all in commotion, her face wreathed with insipid smiles, and her hair done up in a marvellous combination of puffs, curls and braids under a tiny bonnet, that hovered over them like a butterfly just ready to take wing.

"I knew that you would be moping yourself to death," she cried, floating down upon Elizabeth with both hands extended; "so I gave up everything and came in the first train. Now do acknowledge that I am the kindest friend in the world."

Elizabeth received her cordially, and with a great effort shook off the gloomy thoughts that had oppressed her all the morning. Mrs. Harrington did not heed this, she was always ready to welcome herself, and in haste to secure her full share of the conversation, and before Elizabeth could finish her rather halting attempts at a compliment she presented her companions.

Elizabeth had hardly glanced at the gentlemen till then, but now she recognized the elder and more stately of the two as the person who had probably saved her life on the Bloomingdale road.

"I need not ask a welcome for this gentleman, I am sure," said Mrs. Harrington, clasping both hands over Mr. North's arm, and leaning coquettishly upon him. "He is our preserver, Mrs. Mellen,—our hero."

North smiled, but rejected these compliments with an impatient lift of the head.

"Pray allow Mrs. Mellen to forget that this is not our first meeting," he said; "so small a service is not worth mentioning."

He looked steadily at Elizabeth as he spoke. She seemed to shrink from his glance, but answered,

"No, no; it was a service I can never forget—never hope to repay."

"Now let me beg a welcome for my other friend," interposed Mrs. Harrington. "Mr. Hawkins. I told him it was quite a charity to come with me and rouse you up a little, besides, he is dying to see your lovely sister-in-law."

Mr. Hawkins, a very young Englishman, was leaning against a pillar of the veranda in an attitude which displayed his very stylish dress to the best possible advantage. He appeared mildly conscious that he had performed a solemn duty in making a perambulating tailor's block of himself, and ready to receive any amount of feminine admiration without resistance. He came forward half a step and fell back again.

"Such a charming place you have here—quite a paradise," he drawled, caressing the head of his cane, which was constantly between his lips. "I trust—aw—the other angel of this retreat is visible?"

Elizabeth replied with a faint smile. She had borne a good many similar afflictions from Mrs. Harrington's friends, but it was too much that they should be forced upon her just then.

"Where is Elsie?" cried the widow, with vivacious affection, shaking her gay plumage like a canary bird in the sun.

"In her own room," replied Elizabeth. "Pray walk in, and I will call her."

"Oh, never mind, I'll go!" said Mrs. Harrington. "Gentlemen, I leave you with Mrs. Mellen; but no flirtation, remember that!"

She fluttered, laughed a little, and shook her finger at the very young man, who said "Aw!" while North seemed absorbed in the scenery. Then away she flew, kissing her hand to them, and leaving Elizabeth to gather up her weary thoughts and make an effort at entertaining these unwelcome guests.

Mrs. Harrington found Elsie yawning over a new novel, and quite prepared to be enlivened by the prospect of company.

"But I can't go down such a figure," she said; "just wait a minute. One gets so careless in a house without gentlemen."

"Poor dear! I am sure you are moped."

"Oh, to death. It's dreadful!" sighed Elsie. "I feel things so acutely. If I only had a little of Bessie's stoicism!"

"Yes, it's all very well; but you are made up of feeling," said the widow. "Change your dress, dear. Oh, you've made a conquest of a certain gentleman."

"What, that Hawkins! He's a fearful idiot!" cried Elsie. "But he'll do, for want of a better."

The sensitive young creature had quite forgotten her low spirits, but dressed herself in the most becoming morning attire possible, and floated down to greet the guests and quite bewilder them with her loveliness.

Hawkins had been mortally afraid of Mrs. Mellen, but with Elsie he could talk, and Elizabeth sat quite stunned by the flood of frivolous nonsense and the peals of senseless laughter which went on about her. As for Mr. North, Elsie scarcely gave him a word after the first general salutation.

After awhile Elizabeth managed to escape, on the plea that household duties required her presence, and stole up to her room for a little quiet. All at once she heard Tom Fuller's voice in the hall; opened her dressing-room door, and there he stood in his usual disordered state.

"I've come to say good-bye," were his first words.

"Then you are really going, Tom?" she said, sorrowfully, taking his hand and leading him into the chamber. "Oh, how sorry I am."

"Yes, I'm off to-morrow," he said, resolutely, running both hands through his hair, and trying to keep his courage up. "A trip to Europe is a splendid thing, Bess—I'm a lucky fellow to get it."

"I shall be all alone," she said, mournfully; "and I had depended on you so much."

"Oh," cried Tom, "It's good of you to miss me—nobody else will! But there, Bessie, don't you set me off! I wanted to bid you good-bye—I—I—well, I'm a confounded fool, but I thought I'd like to see her just once more."

"And those tiresome people are here," said Elizabeth.

"Who do you mean?"

"Oh, Mrs. Harrington and two men she has brought to spend the day—one of them is the person who checked our horses that day."

"I thought I heard the widow's voice as I came through the hall," said Tom. "Well, well, it's better so! You see I don't want to make a donkey of myself."

"Tom, you are the best creature in the world," cried Elizabeth.

"Oh, Lord bless you, no," said Tom, rubbing his forehead in a disconsolate way; "I ain't good; there's nothing like that about me. 'Pon my word, I'm quite shocked lately to see what an envious, bad-hearted old wretch I'm getting to be."

"We won't go downstairs yet," said Elizabeth; "sit down here and let's have a comfortable talk, like old times, Tom."

"Well, no, I guess not, thank you—it's very kind of you," returned he, getting very red. "You see I can't stay but an hour—I must take the next train, for I've lots of things to do."

"Oh, I thought you would spend the night."

"Now, don't ask me—I can't—it wouldn't be wise if I could," cried Tom, giving his hair an unmerciful combing with his fingers.

"No," she replied, regarding him with womanly pity; "perhaps not. And you would like to go down stairs?"

"I'm a fool to wish it," he answered; "those fine people will only laugh at me, and I know when I see that magnifico and his popinjay friend about Elsie I shall want to wring their conceited necks. But I'll go—oh, it's no use telling lies! You understand just what a fool I am—I came because I feel as if I must see her once more!"

Tom was twisting his hat in both hands, his features worked in the attempt he made to control his agitation; but Elizabeth loved him too well for any notice of his odd manner—she was entirely absorbed in sympathy for his trouble.

"Oh, Tom, Tom!" she said, "I do hope absence—the change—will do you good."

"Yes," he broke in, with a strangled whistle that began as a groan; "yes, of course, thank you—oh, no doubt! You see, there's no knowing what good may come. But Lord bless you, Bess, if the old ship would only sink and land me safe as many fathoms under salt water as was convenient, it would be about the best thing that could happen to me."

"Don't talk so, Tom; you can't think how it pains me."

"Well, I won't—there, I'm all right now! Ti-rol-de-rol!" and Tom actually tried to sing. "I say, Bessie, she never—she don't seem, you know—?"

"What, Tom?"

"To be sorry I was going, you know?"

"Elsie? She has been so engrossed with her brother's journey——"

"Yes, of course," Tom broke in; "oh, it's not to be expected—nobody that wasn't a flounder ever would have asked! Ri-tol-de-rol! I'm a little hoarse this morning, but it's no matter—I only want to show I'm not put about, you know—that is, not much."

He moved uneasily about the chamber, upset light chairs and committed disasters generally; but all the while looked resolute as possible, and kept up his attempt at a song in a mournful quaver.

"Well, I can't stay," he said; "I mustn't lose the train! Now, don't feel uncomfortable, Bessie; Lord bless you, I shall soon be all right—sea-sickness is good for my disease, you know," and Tom tried to laugh, but it was a dismal failure compared with his former light-heartedness.

Elizabeth saw that he was restless to get once more into Elsie's presence, painful as the interview must be to him, so she smoothed his hair, straightened his necktie and accompanied him downstairs.

"Oh, you dear, delightful Tom Fuller!" cried Mrs. Harrington, pleased to see any man arrive, for Elsie had carried off both her victims into the window-seat, and was making them dizzy with her smiles and brilliant nonsense.

"I—I'm delighted to see you," cried Tom, frantically, thrusting his hat in her face, in a wild delusion that he was offering his hand, for he was so upset by the sight of Elsie that he felt as if rapidly going up in an unmanageable balloon.

"I'll just say good-bye at the same time," pursued Tom; "for I'm rather in a hurry, thank you."

"Why, you're not going away directly!" cried the widow. "Oh, you must stay and entertain me. Elsie has left me quite desolate."

"Thank you; it's of no importance; I'm not quite on my sea legs yet," gasped Tom, growing so dizzy that he was possessed of a mad idea he was already on shipboard.

"Why, you look quite white and ill," said the widow.

"Yes; oh, not any, thank you," cried Tom, stepping on the widow's dress, dancing off it and dealing Elizabeth a blow with his hat.

Mrs. Mellen felt herself grow sick at heart; she glanced at Elsie; the girl was laughing gaily, and chatting away with young Hawkins, regardless of Tom's presence. North stood by, looking at her with his deep, earnest eyes, as if searching her character in all its shallow depths. Elizabeth felt bitterly indignant, and exclaimed—

"Elsie, my cousin has come to wish us good-bye, if you can spare him a moment."

"So you are really going?" called Elsie. "You oughtn't to run away so. It's so unkind of you."

Tom lifted his eyes mournfully to her face.

"My lap is so full of flowers," cried Elsie, glancing down at a mass of roses that glowed in the folds of her morning dress, "I can't possibly get up; come and shake hands with me."

It was well for Tom that Mrs. Harrington seized his arm, and afforded him a few instants to regain his composure, while she asked all sorts of questions about his journey and its object.

"Mary Harrington," said Elsie. "Just let Mr. Fuller come here; you mustn't assault peaceable men in that way."

"La, dear, what odd things you do say! I was just talking with Mr. Fuller about his journey."

Elsie glanced at North and whispered to his companion, who laughed in a very polite way. Tom knew it was at him, and grew more red and awkward. Elizabeth recognised the silly insult, and darted a look of such indignation towards the offender that the youth was quite subdued, although it had no effect whatever on Elsie.

She rose, dropping her flowers over the carpet, put her hand in Mr. North's arm, left Hawkins to follow, and caress his cane in peace, and moved towards the group.

"Good-bye, Mr. Fuller," said she, touching his shoulder with the tips of her fingers. "If you bring me a beautiful lava bracelet perhaps I'll forgive you for going away,—and some pink coral,—don't forget."

Tom was a sight to behold between confusion, distress, and his superhuman efforts to be calm.

"I'll bring you twenty," said he, recklessly.

"Oh, that would be overpowering," laughed Elsie. "Good-bye. I'm sure you'll look touching when you are seasick."

"He! he!" giggled Hawkins, as well as he could for the cane.

Tom turned on him like a tiger.

"You'll ruin your digestion if you laugh so much over that tough meal," said he, and for once Tom had the laugh on his side.

"Good-bye, Miss Elsie," he continued, determined to get away while he could still preserve a decent show of composure; "good-bye."

"Good-bye, Tom Fuller, good-bye!"

She flung some of the flowers she was holding, at him. Tom caught them and hurried out of the room, pressing the fragrant blossoms against his waistcoat, and smothering a mortal pang.

Elizabeth followed him into the hall, but their parting was a brief one, spoken amid bursts of laughter from within, and in a broken voice by the warm hearted young fellow.

"Good-bye, Bessie—God bless you."

"You'll write to me, Tom? I shall miss you so."

"Oh, don't; it ain't worth while! I'll write of course; good-bye."

Tom dashed down the steps and fled along the avenue in mad haste, and Elizabeth returned to her guests.

It seemed to her that the day would never come to an end. Mrs. Harrington and Elsie scarcely heeded her, but fluttered from room to room with the two guests, doing the honors with great spirit, and urging them to extend their visit some days. Elizabeth was offended at the reckless offer of hospitality.

Elsie saw this and whispered, "It wasn't my fault; don't blame me, dear! Grant is gone, and he told you not to be cross with me."

So Elizabeth controlled herself; perhaps the girl had done all this harm unconsciously. She would believe so, at least; no cloud must come between them. These almost strange men were invited, and must remain if they so decided.

As if she had not enough to bear already, Elizabeth's inflictions were increased towards the dinner hour by the arrival of a Mr. Rhodes and his daughter, who lived at an easy distance, and thought it a neighborly and kind thing for them to drop in to dinner with Mrs. Mellen, and console her in her loneliness.