On the Sunday following her arrival in Washington, the last day of her sojourn in the capital, the day before her departure for the frontier, Corona Rothsay rose early in the morning, and soon as she was dressed went down to the ladies' parlor. Neither her uncle nor his young wife had yet left their rooms. In fact, so early was it that none of the ladies staying in the house had yet come down to the parlor. The place was vacant. Corona went up the long room and sat down by one of the front windows, to look down on the passing life of the avenue below. While she sat looking out of the window she heard a movement at the lower end of the room. Some one entered and sat down to wait. And some one else went out again. Corona never turned round to see who was there. She continued to look through the window. She was not interested in the comers and goers into and out of the hotel. Presently some one came in again and said: "Mrs. Rothsay is not in her room, sir." "Then I will wait here until she can be found," replied the new comer in a familiar voice. But then Corona started up and rushed down the length of the room, crying eagerly: "Uncle Clarence! Oh, Uncle Clarence! Is this you? Is this indeed you? I am so glad to see you once more before I go! I had thought never to see you again! Or, at least, not for many years! And here you are!" He caught the hands she held out as she reached him, drew her to his bosom and kissed her as he answered: "Yes, my dear, it is I, your old bachelor uncle, who was not satisfied with the leave taking on last Thursday, but longed to see you again before your departure." "You dear Uncle Clarence!" "So yesterday afternoon I telegraphed to Fabian to ask him when you were to start for the West. He telegraphed back that you expected to leave Washington on Monday morning. I got this answer about five o'clock in the afternoon. And, as it was Saturday night and I had a clear day, the blessed Sabbath, before me, I only waited to close the works at six o'clock, as usual, and then I hurried away, packed a carpet bag and caught, by half a minute, the six-thirty express for Baltimore and Washington, and came straight through! It was a twelve hours' journey, my dear, without stopping except to change cars, which connected promptly, and so you see I have lost no time! I have just arrived, and did not have to wait five minutes even to see you, for you were here to receive me! And now that I am here, my dear, I shall stay to see you off with the Nevilles. You go to-morrow, as I understand? There has been no change in the programme?" "We go to-morrow, Uncle Clarence," replied Corona, in a grave, sorrowful tone, for she was sympathizing with him. "By what train, my child?" "The eight-thirty express, Baltimore and Ohio Railroad."