When the old woman had left the room Cora sat down to her writing desk and wrote two letters--one to Mr. Fabian Rockharrt, Hotel Trois Freres, Paris; the other to Cadet Sylvanus Haught, West Point, N.Y. When she had finished and sealed these she put them in the mail bag that was left in the hall to be taken at daybreak by the groom to North End post office. Then she retired to rest. The next morning she breakfasted tete-a-tete with her grandfather, Mr. Clarence having remained over night at North End. While they were still at the table the man John entered with a telegram, which he laid on the table before his master. "Who brought this?" inquired the Iron King, as he opened it. "Joseph brought it when he came back from the post office. It had just come, and Mr. Clarence gave it to Joseph to fetch to you, sir. Yes, sir!" replied John. "It is from Mrs. Stillwater. That lady is a perfect model of promptitude and punctuality. She says--but I had better read it to you. John, you need not wait," said Mr. Rockharrt. The negro, who had lingered from curiosity to hear what was in the telegram, immediately retired. Old Aaron Rockharrt took up the long slip, adjusted his spectacles and read: WIRT HOUSE, BALTIMORE, MD., May 16th, 18-- A thousand heartfelt thanks for your princely munificence and hospitality. I avail myself of both gladly and at once. I shall leave Baltimore by the 8:30 a.m., and arrive at the North End Station at 6:30 p.m. "That is her message. Now I wish you to have everything in readiness for her. I shall go in person to the depot and bring her home with me when I return in the evening. Of course it will be two hours later than usual when I get back here. You will, therefore, have the dinner put back until nine o'clock on this occasion." Cora bowed. She could scarcely trust her voice to answer in words. Mr. Rockharrt, absorbed in his own thoughts and plans, never noticed her coldness and silence. He soon finished breakfast, left the table, and a few minutes later entered his carriage to drive to North End. "'Pears to me old marse is jes' wonderful, Miss Cora. To go to his business every day like clock work, and he 'bout seventy-seven years old. And jes' as straight and strong as a pine tree! Yes, and as hard as a pine knot! He's wonderful, that he is!" said old Jason, the gray haired negro butler, when he came in from seeing his master off and began to clear away the breakfast service. "Yes; your master is a fine, strong man, Jason--physically," replied Cora, who was beginning to doubt the mental soundness of her grandfather! "Physicking! No, indeed! 'Tain't that as makes the old g'eman so strong. He nebber would take no physic in all his life. It's consternation, that's w'at it is--his good, healthy consternation!" "Very likely!" replied Cora, who was too much disturbed to set the old man right.