Checking the exasperation surging in her heart, Clara affected frivolity. “O, I feel well enough,” she replied. “A little tired,—that’s all. What if this Mr. Onslow should fall in love with me?” “O, but that would be too good!” exclaimed Laura. Between you and me, I owe him a spite. I’ve just heard he once said, speaking of me, ‘Handsome,—but no depth!’ Hang the fellow! I’d like to punish him. He’s proud as Lucifer. Wouldn’t it be a joke to let him fall in love with a poor little slave?” “So, you don’t mean to fall in love with him yourself?” “O no! He’s good-looking, but poor. Can you keep a secret?” “Yes.” “Well, I mean to set my cap for Mr. Vance.” “Possible?” “Yes, Perdita. He’s fine-looking, of the right age, very rich, and so altogether fascinating! Father learnt yesterday that he pays an enormous tax on real estate.” “And is he the only string to your bow?” “O no. But our best young men are in the army. Onslow is a captain. O, I mustn’t forget Charles Kenrick. Onslow is to bring him here. Kenrick’s father owns a whole brigade of slaves. Hark! Dear me! That was two o’clock. Will you have luncheon?” “No, thank you. I’m not hungry.” “Then I must leave you. I’ve an appointment with my dressmaker. In the lower drawers there you’ll find some of my last year’s dresses. I’ve outgrown them. Amuse yourself with choosing one for to-night. We shall have callers.” Laura hurried off. Clara, terrified at the wrathfulness of her own emotions, walked the room for a while, then dropped upon her knees in prayer. She prayed to be delivered from her own wild passions and from the toils of her enemies. With softened heart, she rose and went to the window. There, on the opposite sidewalk, stood Esha! Crumpling up some paper, Clara threw it out so as to arrest her attention, then beckoned to her to come up. Stifling a cry of surprise, Esha crossed the street, and entered the hotel. The next minute she and Clara had embraced. “But how did you happen to be there, Esha?” “Bress de chile, I’ze been stahndin’ dar de last hour, but what for I knowed no more dan de stones. ’T warn’t till I seed de chile hersef it ’curred ter me what for I’d been stahndin’ dar.” “What happened after I left home?”