I had said no more than I intended to say; I was resolutely bent upon telling this man what he seemed to me to be and what I knew of his baseness. To do this it was needful, above all, to find Delaney. After that, whether Darthea married my cousin or not, I meant that she should at last know what I knew. It was fair to her that some one should open her eyes to this man’s character. When away from her, hope, the friend of the absent, was ever with me; but once face to face with Darthea, to think of her as by any possibility mine became impossible. Yet from first to last I was firm in my purpose, for this was the way I was made, and so I am to this day. But whether I had loved her or not, I should have done my best out of mere friendship to set her free from the bonds in which she was held. I had heard of Delaney as being in the South, but whether he had come out alive from the tussles between Morgan, Marion, and Tarleton, I knew not. On asking Colonel Harrison, the general’s secretary, he told me he thought he could discover his whereabouts. Next day he called to tell me that there was an officer of the name of Delaney at the London Inn, now called “The Flag,” on Front street, and that he had been asking for me. I had missed him by five minutes. He had called with despatches from Major-General Greene. To my joy this proved to be the man I wanted, nor was it surprising that he should thus luckily appear, since the war was over in the South, and a stream of officers was passing through Philadelphia daily to join the Northern army. For a moment he did not know me, but was delighted when I named myself. I said I had no time to lose, and asked him to meet me at my aunt’s in the afternoon. I much feared that Arthur would get away before I was ready to talk to him. Delaney had received my last letter and had answered it, but whither his reply went I cannot say. At all events, he had lingered here to find me. When we met at my Aunt Gainor’s that afternoon, it took but a few minutes to make clear to her the sad tale of Arthur’s visit to the jail. My friend had no sooner done than the old lady rose, and began as usual to walk about, saying: “You will excuse me; I must think of this. Talk to Hugh.” What there was to think of I could not see. Delaney looked on amused, and he and I chatted. She was evidently much disturbed, and while the captain and I talked, I saw her move a chair, and pick up and set down some china beast. At last she said: “Come in at nine to-night, Mr. Delaney. I want to think this over. I have still much I desire to ask you. It deeply concerns my nephew in a way I cannot now explain to you. May I have the privilege of another half-hour?” Delaney bowed. “Of course I do not want you, Hugh,” she added.