"I am quite sure, Kate, that you will remain with your uncle," said I, as the hack rattled up Broadway. "You can't be sure," replied she, somewhat excited by the prospect that was opening before her. "Not exactly sure; but the interest he manifests in you, and the trouble he takes to have you come to his house, convince me that he is a man worthy to be your father's brother." "Perhaps he will scold me for running away from Mrs. Loraine," suggested she, timidly. "I think not. He will not be willing that you should be shut up for a whole week for taking long stitches, or for treading on a flower. There may be some difficulty in the way, as your step-mother is legally your guardian; but your uncle will find a way to release you from such odious bondage. But we won't anticipate anything. If your uncle won't take care of you, I will, for I like you, Kate, and I mean to stand by you just as long as you need any help. Mrs. Macombe will be very glad to take you home with her." "I seem to have plenty of friends now. But, however many friends I may have, Ernest Thornton, I shall always be grateful to you for what you have done for me. I shall always consider you my first and best friend on earth. But you are going off, over the ocean; and I shall not see you again." "I shall return soon." "When shall you go?" "I shall not go till I am sure you are safe and well provided for. If, as I expect, your uncle takes you to his home, I shall start day after to-morrow." "So soon?" "Yes; I cannot needlessly waste a single day. My poor mother, for aught I know, is still in sorrow and suffering." "How glad she will be to see you, if you find her!" "I shall find her; I shall not give up the search until I do find her, if it takes me all the rest of my lifetime. But I expect to be successful without much trouble." We were silent then for half an hour, I judged, in which I was thinking of the great mission that was before me; and I have no doubt Kate was anticipating the scene that awaited her at the house of her uncle. The carriage still rattled along, and it was beginning to be dark, for we had been riding nearly an hour. I thought it was about time for us to reach Madison Place. We must have gone at least six miles, and I came deliberately to the conclusion that New York was a bigger city than I had ever supposed. "Haven't you got almost to Madison Place?" I shouted to the driver, when my patience began to be sorely tried. "It's a good piece yet," replied the driver, in the same surly tones. "I think we must be almost up to Albany," I said to Kate, as I glanced out at the window. "Not quite so far as that," laughed Kate. "This don't look like a very aristocratic part of the city," I added. "The houses are all of wood, and poor ones at that." "You must be patient, Ernest Thornton. We must soon reach my uncle's house." "Your uncle's, or Albany, I should say."