“In the name of Heaven, now, Gusty, what _does_ all this mean?” she inquired, anxiously. “_Mean_, mother! Ah, Heaven! _yes_, what does it mean!” “Surely, Gusty, it is extravagant to manifest all this frightful passion at this disappointment. I own that it was rather unkind in Rosalia to go off to Sophie when we were expecting her, and that it was thoughtless in Raymond to omit writing until the last hour, very thoughtless; but”— “Thought_less_! the calculating, forecasting demon! it was just the contrary—it was thought_ful_ of him!” “What do you mean, Gusty?” Could he reveal to her the fearful light that had broken upon _his_ mind? the terrible truth that had overwhelmed him? Oh, no! at least not now; he remained silent, and she continued to misunderstand him. She went on to say— “Your disappointment blinds you—makes you unjust, Gusty; it was thoughtlessness, or much occupation, that prevented Raymond Withers from writing, to give you an opportunity of seeing Rosalia before their departure; and for the rest, if you can only get over the present disappointment, this arrangement will be better for your _pleasure_, whatever it may be for your purse; for look you, Gusty: suppose Rose had really come, as she promised, and you had married her, and, at the expiration of your leave of absence, left her here, as arranged; you would have spent only a fortnight with her, and then been separated from her for two or three years. Now, by this new plan, you are for the present disappointed, but then you will soon go out, meet her and be near her all the time. Nonsense, dear Gusty! You have nothing really to regret.” And so, in her happy blindness, she continued to talk to the despairing boy before her; and so, uninterruptedly, he let her talk on, while he lay there with his hands clasped upon his corrugated brow. At last, aroused by the laughing and crowing of a wakening baby in the next room, she went and brought her little girl out and sat down with her by Gusty’s side, thinking the glee of the babe, of whom he was very fond, would enliven him. On the contrary he became very much agitated. Presently he said— “Mother, dear, if it will not be too much inconvenience, put a shirt or two, and a pair of socks, &c., into my valise; I’m off by the morning’s boat for the North.” “Why, Gusty!” “Dear mother, _yes_!—I must see Hagar!” “Why must you?” “I _want_ to see her, mother—_must_ see her! I am _anxious_ about her!” “Anxious about her?” “Yes, _very_ anxious!” “And why are you so?” Without replying, Gusty arose and walked the floor with his arms folded and his chin bowed upon his breast. “What makes you so anxious to see Hagar, Gusty?” He paused, and looked perplexed for a few minutes, then suddenly replied— “Is it not natural that I should wish to see Hagar after so long an absence?” “But it is not so long an absence, and your resolution is so sudden.”