“I don’t believe the lodge meets every night! And you are away every night!” she gayly remonstrated. “Dear love, this lodge does meet every night,” he answered, seriously. “I declare, one would think, to see and hear you, that you nightly met conspirators who were darkly plotting ‘the ruin of themselves and land!’” laughed Erminie. But how little she dreamed how much truth she had spoken! Colonel Eastworth also laughed—a strange, unnatural laugh—that chilled Erminie’s blood; and then he kissed her and went away. Most of Colonel Eastworth’s visitors were strangers to the old minister’s family, and even to the rest of his staying guests. But one morning Elfie had a great surprise. She was running downstairs, singing, “Gay and happy,” when suddenly she met, face to face on the stairs, her lover, Albert Goldsborough, who had just been admitted and was on his way up to Colonel Eastworth’s rooms. “Elfie!” he cried, stopping short and staring at her. “Well, I do think! Where did you come from?” she exclaimed, stopping and gazing at him. “I had no idea that you were in this house,” he said, meaningly. “And I had no notion that you were coming to it. So you don’t follow me here?” “No, I came to see Colonel Eastworth.” “It appears to me that there are a great many people coming to see Colonel Eastworth. I don’t know anybody that sees so many people, except it is that old door-keeper at the White House! But you won’t see Colonel Eastworth this morning. He is generally in, holding a levee in his rooms all day long; but this morning the queerest-looking fellow that ever I saw came after him and carried him away.” “What sort of a looking fellow, Elfie?” “A great, tall, broad-shouldered man, with little, tiny head. They got in a carriage together. I heard him tell the coachman to drive to Benning’s Bridge. Now, that is four miles from this, and, if they are going any distance over that bridge, they won’t be back till evening.” “Humph! humph! humph!” muttered Albert, reflectively. “However, as this house is certainly Liberty Hall, you can stop and wait for him,” suggested Elfie. “I am not altogether sorry to miss him, just now that I have met you, dear Elfie. My business with him can wait till evening. And I wish so much to talk with you, Elfie. Oh, I am so glad to see you! It is such an unexpected pleasure. Are you glad to see me, love?” “I had a little rather see you than not, perhaps.” “No more than that?” “No—no more than that.” “But I am happy—so happy to meet you.” “Happy, are you? Well, you don’t look so; and, indeed, I haven’t seen anybody look happy for the last six months. Of all the glum wretches that ever existed, all my fellow creatures are getting to be the glummest. Happy! if that is your happy look, I wonder what your dismal one is like.”