She had responded to that appeal, talking kindly to the little girl, between whom and herself the friendliest of relations were established, and whose name, she learned, was Jenny Ellsworth. The mother she did not then see, as during the journey down the river she was suffering from a nervous headache, and kept her room. From the child and child’s nurse, however, she heard that Mrs. Ellsworth was going to Europe, and was anxious to secure some competent person to act in the capacity of Jenny’s governess. Instantly Adah’s decision was made. Once in New York she would by letter apply for the situation, for nothing then could so well suit her state of mind as a tour to Europe, where she would be far away from all she had ever known. Very adroitly she ascertained Mrs. Ellsworth’s address, wrote her a note the day following her arrival in New York, and the day following that, found her in Mrs. Ellsworth’s parlor at the Brevoort House, where for a few days she was stopping. It had troubled her somewhat to know what name to take, but she decided finally upon Adah Gordon as the one by which she was known ere George Hastings crossed her path, and in her note to Mrs. Ellsworth she signed herself “A GORDON.” From her little girl Mrs. Ellsworth had heard much of the “sweet young lady, who was so kind to her on the boat,” and was thus already prepossessed in her favor. Adah did not tell Dr. Richards, and perhaps she did not herself know how surprised and delighted Mrs. Ellsworth was with the fair, girlish creature, announced to her as Miss Gordon, and who won her heart before five minutes were gone, making her think it of no consequence to inquire concerning her at Madam ——’s school, where she said she had once been a pupil. Naturally very impulsive and unsuspecting, Mrs. Ellsworth usually acted upon her likes or dislikes, and Adah was soon installed as governess to the delighted little Jennie, who learned to love her gentle teacher with a love almost amounting to idolatry. “You were in Europe, then, and that is the reason why we could not find you,” Dr. Richards said, adding, after a moment, “And Irving Stanley went with you—was your companion all the while?” “Yes, all the while,” and Adah’s cold fingers worked nervously at the wisp of hay she was twisting in her hand. “We came home sooner than we intended, as he was anxious to join the army. I had seen him before—he was in the cars when Willie and I were on our way to Terrace Hill. Willie had the ear-ache, and he was so kind to us both.” Adah looked fixedly now at the craven doctor, who could not meet her glance, for well he remembered the dastardly part he had played in that scene, where his own child was screaming with pain, and he sat selfishly idle. “She don’t know I was there, though,” he thought, and that gave him some comfort. But Adah did know, and she meant he should know she did. Keeping her eyes still fixed upon him, she continued,