"Yes," she sighed again and was silent a moment. Then she said, "But Stephen, if Aunt Faith is there, you know it won't be like anybody else, and you can show them the house I am going to have. Do you believe that?" she broke out suddenly. "Do you really believe that? This uncertainty is killing me--don't imagine that I could not wait for years, I am not dying for you, Stephen; I should not do such a thing, of course. But not to know! I must know soon; life is unendurable under such a strain." "Poor little girl, she was not made, surely, to bear suffering," thought Archdale. And he went away assured that she was most of all to be pitied, that she was least protected from the North wind which was blowing against them all three. As to the house, she should certainly have her way about it. He saw that she was sacrificing her own feelings for him. She did not understand that it was making matters a great deal harder, she thought that she was making it pleasanter for him. Well, she should have the satisfaction of believing she had done so. It did not occur to him that the girl had taken the most effectual way of awaking a sentimental interest in the persons who were imagining that they were to be her guests. Katie was one of those people who illustrate the use of the velvet glove, for in spite of her sprightliness, she was considered the gentlest little creature in the Colonies. CHAPTER XIII. OVER THE THRESHOLD. Florence, Lady Dacre, with her hand on Archdale's arm walked across the plank from ship to shore, her husband on the other side of her and her maid following with Sir Temple's valet, who was devotedly carrying all the bundles, and interspersing his useful attentions with auguries as to the "hignorance of the Hamerican Colonies." Lady Dacre walked on with a light step, and eyes that took note of every thing. "So, this is Boston?" she said. "I have always wanted to see it. You will think me in fun, but really, do you know, it has an odd sort of aggressive look to me! We imagine a certain humility in Colonies, but your people are more English than Englishmen. That is your carriage, there on the pier? How kind in you to come for us. And that is your coachman? Now, even he has a look that, on the whole, he is as good as you." "He does not feel so," returned Archdale, smiling. "Oh, no, I suppose not; it must be the exhilirating air that gives people that appearance. Such a sky as there is to-day! Do you have beautiful weather like this all the time?" "No, sometimes we have a thunder shower." Sir Temple laughed. "Good enough for you, Florence," he cried. "What are you so absurd for?" "For fun. I suppose you know Governor Shirley?" she added after an instant. "Slightly. But he is an intimate friend of Mr. Royal,--one of my father's friends." "Ah! yes. Well, what is the difference?" "Then, last year," said Sir Temple, "we met some people in London." He named several whom Archdale knew.