“My dear, you met the man on the steamer when you were alone and you were not afraid of him. If you meet him at Haymore you will be on my arm,” said the curate in a reassuring tone. “And on your arm I shall fear nothing, papa, dear! And now I will not distress you any more by my nervous fancies. I will go, papa, and behave as well as I can.” “That is my good, brave girl!” “And—I know—Mrs. Longman will take good care of baby while we are gone,” said Jennie in a tone of confidence, but with a look of doubt. “Of course she will! There can be no mistake there! She will take better care of little Essie than you or I could with our best endeavors. ‘Why?’—do you ask?—because she is an experienced nurse and a conscientious woman—and a tender mother! Are those reasons enough?” demanded Hetty, laughing. Jennie nodded. The proposed visit to Haymore Hall had for its suspected object a very grave and important matter. Yet these two women began immediately to think of the trifling items—what they should wear! It is always so! Whether a woman is to be married or executed, her toilet seems to be an affair of the most serious consideration. Mary Stuart’s dress was as artistically arranged for the block as ever it had been for her bridals. Jennie’s big trunk was unlocked and invaded. She had several dresses, gifts from her generous friends in New York, much handsomer than Hetty had ever possessed; and mother and daughter were near enough of a size to make any dress in the collection fit either. Hetty, having her choice, selected a mazarine blue satin, trimmed with deep flounces of Spanish lace, which very well suited her fair, rosy face and sunny brown hair. Jennie chose a ruby silk, trimmed with fringe of the same color, which well set off her rich brunette complexion, dark eyes and dark hair. On ordinary occasions of neighborly visiting for so short a distance as that between the parsonage and the Hall the curate and his wife and daughter would have walked, but with such—to them—grand toilets, the two women required a carriage, which now, with his improved prospects, Mr. Campbell could well afford. So a passing boy was called from the road and dispatched to the Red Fox to engage Nahum with his mare “Miss Nancy,” and the nondescript vehicle called by the proprietor a “fly,” by the curate a “carryall,” and by the village boys a “shandy-ray-dan.” At precisely six o’clock this imposing conveyance was at the gate of the parsonage waiting for the parson and his party. Meanwhile, at Haymore Hall, preparations were completed for the reception of the most incompatible company that ever could be gathered together. Let us take a look at the people in the house and at the guests they were expecting First, as to the inmates, there were Ran and Judy—Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Hay—their solicitor, Mr. Will Walling; their brother, young Michael Man; the hunter, Samson Longman, and the old miner, Andrew Quin.