“‘To the country,—some farm-house where I might have a chance to be alone. Oh, if I could! If I could!’— “‘Not quite so rural as that,’ she said, ‘but if you like it, we will go to Saratoga.’ “My heart sunk within me. Saratoga! and with her! I answered faintly, that I would much rather stay at home and rest. At first she opposed this, but I pleaded so hard for quiet and solitude, that she at last consented and left me at home, only extracting a promise that I should receive no company, nor go out alone. The next morning, she started on her journey. I watched her from the window as she got into the carriage. It was a relief to see her go, but my heart was heavy as death. In her way she had been kind to me and I was deceiving her. “She is gone; and the great solitary house is mine to roam in as I please. I go down to the arbor twenty times a day. The clematis vine is white with blossoms, as it was the day you told me how dear I would ever be to you. I sit down under the shadows that twinkle around me with every stir of the leaves, and think of you, your looks, your words, the expression of your face when we parted, till my heart swells with the joy and pain of memories that are my glory, and yet kill me. Oh, if you were only here—if I could but see you a single moment! But God help me, an ocean divides us! I may never see you again. Sometimes I think it will be so, and that makes the thought of death terrible. “The loneliness here would be pleasant, but for the dread of what is to come. I think of her return with terror. If I hear a carriage in the street, my heart stands motionless till it has passed the house. I dare not meet her again. What can I do? Where shall I go? Louis, Louis, my heart will break if I do not hear from you.... “A friend of Mrs. Judson’s called here this morning; she says that my guardian may come back any day. She wishes the house to be in readiness. I must go; but where? Father of mercies, tell me where!