“Yes; he was telling me something of madam’s history a day or two ago.” “What! have they been here any length of time?” interrupted Mr. Dalton, with a frown. “Less than a week, I believe.” “Yes, yes; go on with what you were going to tell me,” he again interrupted, impatiently. “He said madam had seen a great deal of trouble—there was some misunderstanding between herself and husband, who, by the way, was an American, which resulted in their separation after they had been married only a year. But she appears like a very lovely woman to me,” Editha replied, with a dreary look, as she remembered how she had been drawn toward the beautiful stranger. Mr. Dalton watched her keenly out of the corners of his eyes; he was exceedingly moved and nervous about something; the corners of his mouth twitched convulsively, while he kept clasping and unclasping his hands in an excited way. He paced the floor in silence for a few moments, then abruptly left the room. Half an hour after he returned, and, while pretending to look over the newspaper, said: “Editha, I’ve about concluded that I’d like a look at Saratoga; it is just the height of the season now; everything will be lovely, and Newport is getting a little tame.” “Tame, papa! Why, I thought there was no place like Newport to you!” she exclaimed, in surprise. “I know; Newport is a sort of summer home to me, and, of course, there is no place like home; but, if you do not mind, I’d like a change for a little while.” “Cannot you go without me? I am very comfortable here,” Editha asked, with a sigh. She had no heart for gayety, and she was really happier just now there at Newport—notwithstanding her assertion to Mr. Tressalia that she did not enjoy Newport—than she had ever hoped to be again. “No, indeed,” he returned, quickly and decidedly. “I could not think of leaving you alone while you are so delicate; and besides, I cannot spare you, Editha—you and I are rather alone in this busy world.” She looked up in surprise at him at this unusual remark. It was a very rare occurrence for him to address her in such an affectionate manner. It almost seemed to her, with the distrust she had lately had of him, that there was some sinister motive prompting this sudden change; but she stifled the feeling, and answered: “Very well, I will go to Saratoga if you like. When do you wish to start?” “To-morrow, if you can arrange it,” Mr. Dalton replied, the cloud lifting from his face. “Yes, I can arrange it;” but she sighed as she said it, for she was really beginning to wake up to a little life, and she dreaded any change. She had been so calmly content since she had come to a definite understanding with Mr. Tressalia, and she wondered, with a feeling of sadness stealing over her, what she should do without her tireless friend.