"I’d like ye to stand where ye could get a glimpse of his face when he first catches sight o’ his wife. It will be a better proof that I’ve told ye the truth than all the words I’ve said to ye," whispered William. "I have never doubted your word, William," said the father sadly. With much shouting and blowing of the trumpet, the morning train lumbered in, and the passengers began rapidly to emerge. There were loud talk, and tooting of the horn, and a clatter of machinery, as the fireman jumped down and attended to some detail of the engine’s mechanism. Some said he did this to show off before the gaping crowd, who had not yet grown used to the fact that a machine could draw a number of loaded carriages through the country, without the aid of horses. The two old gentlemen had rapidly withdrawn into a secluded place, by a wide-spreading apple-tree. CHAPTER XI One of the first to get out of the carriages was Harrington Winthrop. A high stock held his chin well tilted in the air, his gray trousers were immaculate, and his coat fitted about his slender waist as trimly as any lady’s. He wore a high gray beaver hat and carried a shiny new portmanteau. Altogether, he looked quite a dandy, and the eyes of his waiting wife filled with a light of pride even while her heart quaked. Only an instant she paused to watch him. He was making straight for the Van Rensselaer carriage, which stood not far away, and which he supposed had been sent to bring him to the house. He walked with an importance and pride that any one might see. He did not take note of any one on the platform, though he was conscious that many were watching him. Then, suddenly, the woman with the two little children clinging to her skirts, stepped in his way. The little girl looked up into his face with bold blue eyes, and cried out: "It’s my pa! It’s my pa! Oh, doesn’t he look pretty?" The two men standing close together under the apple-tree were near enough to hear the child’s cry, and many bystanders turned and looked at the fine gentleman beset by the poor-looking woman and children. Harrington Winthrop turned his elegant self about with a start and found himself face to face with the worn shadow of the woman who for a time had been his plaything, and whom he had tossed aside as easily and as carelessly as if she had been a doll. The start, the pallor, the quick, furtive side-glance, all told their tale to the watchers, without other need of words. Then anger surged into young Winthrop’s face, and he cried out: "Stand back, you vagabonds! What have I to do with you? Get out of my way, woman! There is a carriage waiting for me."