At a glance Adah read the name, knowing now who had befriended her. It was Irving Stanley, second cousin to Hugh, and ’Lina was with his sister in New York. He was going there, he might speak of her, and if she told her name, her miserable story would be known to more than it was already. It was a false pride which kept Adah silent when she knew that Irving Stanley was waiting for her to speak, and while she was struggling to overcome it, Irving’s time expired and he must go if he would not be left. Taking her hand he said good-bye, while she tried again to thank him for his great kindness to her; but she did not tell her name, and as Irving would not ask it, he left her without the knowledge, thinking of her often as he went his way to New York, and wondering if they would ever meet again. * * * * * In the office below, Dr. Richards, who had purposely stopped for the day in Albany, smoked his expensive cigars, ordered oysters and wine sent to his room—wrote an explanatory note to ’Lina—feeling half tempted to leave out the “Dear,” with which he felt constrained to preface it—thought again of Lily—thought once of the strange woman and the little boy, in whom Irving Stanley had been so interested, wondered where they were going, and who it was the boy looked a little like—thought of _Anna_ in connection with that boy; and then, late in the afternoon, sauntered down to the Boston depot, and took his seat in the car which, at about 10 o’clock that night, would deposit him at Snowdon. There were no children to disturb him, for Adah, unconscious of his proximity, was in the rear car—weary, and nervous with the dread which her near approach to Terrace Hill inspired. What if, after all, Anna should not want her? And this was a possible contingency, notwithstanding Alice had been so sanguine. “I can find employment somewhere—God will direct me,” she whispered softly, drawing her veil over her tired face, and thinking, she scarcely knew why, of Irving Stanley. Darkly the December night closed in, and still the train kept on, until at last Danville was reached, and she must alight, as the express did not stop again until it reached Worcester. With a chill sense of loneliness, and a vague, confused wish for the one cheering voice which had greeted her ear since leaving Spring Bank, Adah stood upon the snow-covered platform, holding Willie in her arms, and pointing out her trunk to the civil baggage man, who, in answer to her inquiries as to the best means of reaching Terrace Hill, replied, “You can’t go there to-night; it is too late. You’ll have to stay in the tavern kept right over the depot, though if you’d kept on the train there might have been a chance, for I see the young Dr. Richards aboard; and as he didn’t get out, I guess he’s coaxed or hired the conductor to leave him at Snowdon.”