“Oh, he and his mother both left at the end of the season. They are living in a one-room shanty in the woods west of this, and she is washing, and her boy fetches and carries the clothes backward and forward.” “I will make them both happy by taking them back to the Isle of Storms, to the old home they have been pining for,” was Roma’s secret thought. “You see,” said Mrs. Brown, “the house is nearly empty at this season. The few permanent tenants have their own servants, and cook their own meals. The restaurant requires but one cook and one waiter. Sarah Ann Syphax and her brother ’Pollyon fill these places. My own son, George, runs the elevator at present, but as he has gone to bed, ’Pollyon obligingly undertook to do it to-night, his duties at the restaurant being over for the evening.” Mr. Merritt had seated himself in the big armchair, and was debating in his own mind whether he should tell Roma of the dispatch he had received that day announcing the discovery of little Owlet in the streets of New York. He decided not to do so that night, lest the news should deprive Roma of sleep, so he got up and said: “Well, now, my dear, as I see you are safe under Mrs. Brown’s wing, I will bid you good-night.” “But you will come to-morrow morning?” said Roma. “I fear not. I have a case in court that may occupy me all day.” “Then come and dine with me at seven in the evening.” “With pleasure. Good-night, my dear. Get to bed as soon as you can.” “Good-night, good friend. Sincere thanks for all your kindness,” said Roma, holding out her hand. The lawyer pressed it and went his way. But Mrs. Brown, late as it was, was disinclined to move. She was rather inclined for a gossip. Sinking into the chair that Mr. Merritt had vacated, she said: “I really thought, when Mr. Merritt engaged these rooms for you, that you were coming here on your bridal tour.” “Why should you have thought so?” demanded Roma. “Because that gentleman who came here soon after you left as good as told me that he and you were soon to be married, and as good as promised to bring you here on your bridal tour.” “What gentleman?” “Why, Mr. William Hanson.” “Tell me all about his visit.” “Why, he came here to inquire after you. Somebody had told him you were staying here. He said he had been on a long voyage, and I think he said he had been shipwrecked; in that way he had lost trace of you. He asked me ever so many questions, and made me tell him all about you—every single thing. About your goodness to Madam Nouvellini and your adoption of her orphan child, and your devotion to the little one, and all; and he just as good as told me how you was engaged to be married to him, and just as good as pledged his word that he would bring you here on your bridal tour.” “Then he told you absolute falsehoods. I never was engaged to the man, and never could have been so.” “See that, now! Maybe you didn’t even know him?”