So Carrie and Durward were substituted, and as this arrangement brought the latter occasionally to the house, ’Lena had opportunities of asking him if there had yet come any answer to her letter; and much oftener than he would otherwise have done, Durward went down to Frankfort, for he felt that it was no unimportant matter which thus deeply interested ’Lena. At last, the day before the bridal came, Durward had gone to the city, and in a state of great excitement ’Lena awaited his return, watching with a trembling heart as the sun went down behind the western hills. Slowly the hours dragged on, and many a time she stole out in the deep darkness to listen, but there was nothing to be heard save the distant cry of the night-owl, and she was about retracing her steps for the fifth time, when from behind a clump of rose-bushes started a little dusky form, which whispered softly, “Is you Miss ’Leny?” Repressing the scream which came near escaping her lips, ’Lena answered, “Yes; what do you want?” while at the same moment she recognized a little hunch back belonging to General Fontaine. “Marster Everett tell me to fotch you this, and wait for the answer,” said the boy, passing her a tiny note. “Master Everett! Is he here?” she exclaimed, catching the note and re-entering the house, where by the light of the hall lamp she read what he had written. It was very short, but it told all—how he had written again and again, receiving no answer, and was about coming himself when a severe illness prevented. The marriage, he said, was that of his uncle, for whom he was named, and who had in truth gone on to Washington, the home of his second wife. It closed by asking her to meet him, with Anna, on one of the arbor bridges at midnight. Hastily tearing a blank leaf from a book which chanced to be lying in the hall, ’Lena wrote, “We will be there,” and giving it to the negro, bade him hasten back. There was no longer need to wait for Durward, who, if he got no letter, was not to call, and trembling in every nerve, ’Lena sought her chamber, there to consider what she was next to do. For some time past Carrie had occupied a separate room from Anna, who, she said disturbed her with her late hours and restless turnings, so ’Lena’s part seemed comparatively easy. Waiting until the house was still, she entered Anna’s room, finding her, as she had expected, at her old place by the open window, her head resting upon the sill, and when she approached nearer, she saw that she was asleep. “Let her sleep yet awhile,” said she; “it will do her good.” In the room adjoining lay the bridal dress, and ’Lena’s first impulse was to trample it under her feet, but passing it with a shudder, she hastily collected whatever she thought Anna would most need. These she placed in a small-sized trunk, and then knowing it was done, she approached her cousin, who seemed to be dreaming, for she murmured the name of “Malcolm.”