But week after week glided by. Mrs. Livingstone’s persecutions ceased, and she sometimes herself handed to Anna Malcolm’s letters, which came regularly, and when about the first of March Captain Atherton himself went off to Washington, Anna gave her fears to the wind, and all the day long went singing about the house, unmindful of the snare laid for her unsuspecting footsteps. At length Malcolm’s letters suddenly ceased, and though Anna wrote again and again, there came no answer. Old Cæsar, who always carried and brought the mail for Maple Grove, was questioned, but he declared he “done got none from Mas’r Everett,” and suspicion in that quarter was lulled. Unfortunately for Anna, both her father and John Jr. were now away, and she had no counselor save ’Lena, who once, on her own responsibility, wrote to Malcolm, but with a like success, and Anna’s heart grew weary with hope deferred. Smilingly Mrs. Livingstone looked on, one moment laughing at Anna for what she termed love-sickness, and the next advising her to be a woman, and marry Captain Atherton. “He was not very old—only forty-three—and it was better to be an old man’s darling than a young man’s slave!” Thus the days wore on, until one evening just as the family were sitting down to tea they were surprised by a call from the captain, who had returned that afternoon, and who, with the freedom of an old friend, unceremoniously entered the supper-room, appropriating to himself the extra plate which Mrs. Livingstone always had upon the table. Simultaneously with him came Cæsar, who having been to the post-office, had just returned, bringing, besides other things, a paper for Carrie, from her old admirer, Tom Lakin, who lived in Rockford, at which place the paper was printed. Several times had Tom remembered Carrie in this way, and now carelessly glancing at the first page, she threw it upon the floor, whence it was taken by Anna, who examined it more minutely glancing, as a matter of course, to the marriage notices. Meantime the captain, who was sitting by ’Lena, casually remarked, “Oh, I forgot to tell you that I saw Mr. Everett in Washington.” “Mr. Everett—Malcolm Everett?” said ’Lena, quickly. “Yes, Malcolm Everett,” answered the captain. “He is there spending the honeymoon with his bride!” ’Lena’s exclamation of astonishment was prevented by a shriek from Anna, who had that moment read the announcement of Mr. Everett’s marriage, which was the first in the list. It was Malcolm H. Everett—there could be no mistake—and when ’Lena reached her cousin’s side, she found that she had fainted. All was now in confusion, in the midst of which the Captain took his leave, having first managed to speak a few words in private with Mrs. Livingstone. “Fortune favors us,” was her reply, as she went back to her daughter, whose long, death-like swoon almost wrung from her the secret.