So bathing her face in cologne, in order to force a glow, Lucy descended to the parlor, which she found to be as dark as Bridget had said it was. St. Leon received her very kindly, for the devotion she had the night before shown for her sister had partially counterbalanced the spitefulness he had observed in her manner when speaking of Ada at the party. Notwithstanding Bridget's precautions, he saw, too, that she was pale and spiritless, but he attributed it to her anxiety for her sister, and this raised her in his estimation. Lucy divined his thoughts, and in her efforts to appear amiable and agreeable, a half-hour passed quickly away. At the end of that time she unfortunately asked, in a very sneering tone, "how long since he had seen the sewing girl?" "If you mean Miss Harcourt," said St. Leon coolly, "I've not seen her since I left her last night at her mother's door." "You must have been in danger of upsetting if you attempted to turn round in Mrs. Harcourt's spacious yard," was Lucy's next remark. "I did not attempt it," said St. Leon. "I carried Miss Ada in my arms from the street to the door." The tone and manner were changed. Lucy knew it, and it exasperated her to say something more, but she was prevented by St. Leon's rising to go. As Lucy accompanied him to the door she asked how long he intended to remain in S----. "I leave this evening, in the cars for New Haven," said he. "This evening?" repeated Lucy in a disappointed tone, "and will you not return?" "Yes, if the business on which I go is successful," answered St. Leon. "A lady in question, perchance," remarked Lucy playfully. "You interpret the truth accurately," said St. Leon, and with a cold, polite bow he was gone. "Why was he going to New Haven?" This was the thought which now tortured Lucy. He had confessed that a lady was concerned in his going, but who was she, and what was she to him? Anyway, there was a comfort in knowing that Ada Harcourt had nothing to do with it! Mistaken Lucy! Ada Harcourt had everything to do with it! CHAPTER V. UNCLE ISRAEL. The lamps were lighted in the cars, and on through the valley of the Connecticut the New Haven train was speeding its way. In one corner of the car sat St. Leon, closely wrapped in cloak and thoughts, the latter of which occasionally suggested to him the possibility that his was a "Tomfool's" errand; "but then," thought he, "no one will know it if I fail, and if I do not, it is worth the trouble."