In her first excitement Mrs. Livingstone had forgotten to ask who was the bearer of ’Lena’s letter, but remembering it now, she put the question. ’Lena would not implicate Durward without his permission, but while she hesitated, he answered for her, “_I_ carried that letter, Mrs. Livingstone, though I did not then know its nature. Still if I had, I should have done the same, and the event has proved that I was right in so doing.” “Ah, indeed!” said the captain growing more and more nettled and disagreeable. “Ah, indeed! Mr. Bellmont leagued with Miss Rivers against me. Perhaps she would not so bluntly refuse an offer coming from you, but I can tell you it won’t sound very well that the Hon. Mrs. Bellmont once rode four miles alone in the night to visit a bachelor. Ha! ha! Miss ’Lena; better have submitted to my terms at once, for don’t you see I have you in my power?” “And if you ever use that power to her disadvantage you answer for it to me; do you understand?” exclaimed Durward, starting up and confronting Captain Atherton, who, the veriest coward in the world, shrank from the flashing of Durward’s eye, and meekly answered, “Yes, yes—yes, yes, I won’t, I won’t. I don’t want to fight. I like ’Lena. I don’t blame Anna for running away if she didn’t want me—but it’s left me in a deuced mean scrape, which I wish you’d help me out of.” Durward saw that the captain was in earnest, and taking his proffered hand, promised to render him any assistance in his power, and advising him to be present himself in the evening, as the first meeting with his acquaintances would thus be over. Upon reflection, the captain concluded to follow this advice, and when evening arrived and with it those who had not heard the news, he was in attendance, together with Durward, who managed the whole affair so skillfully that the party passed off quite pleasantly, the disappointed guests playfully condoling with the deserted bridegroom, who received their jokes with a good grace, wishing himself, meantime, anywhere but there. That night, when the company were gone and all around was silent, Mrs. Livingstone watered her pillow with the first tears she had shed for her youngest born, whom she well knew _she_ had driven from home, and when her husband asked what they should do, she answered with a fresh burst of tears, “Send for Anna to come back.” “And Malcolm, too?” queried Mr. Livingstone, knowing it was useless to send for one without the other. “Yes, Malcolm too. There’s room for both,” said the weeping mother, feeling how every hour she should miss the little girl, whose presence had in it so much of sunlight and joy.