A sudden paleness passed over her face; she turned to leave the office, but the hand of death seemed to clutch her heart, arresting its pulsations, stopping the current of her blood, smothering her breath, and she fell to the floor. * * * * * Wearily passed the day at Dell-Delight. Thurston, as usual, sitting reading or writing at his library table; Paul rambling uneasily about the house, now taking up a book and attempting to read, now throwing it down in disgust; sometimes almost irresistibly impelled to spring upon his horse and gallop to Charlotte Hall, then restraining his strong impulse lest something important should transpire at home during his absence. So passed the day until the middle of the afternoon. Paul was walking up and down the long piazza, indifferent for the first time in his life to the loveliness of the soft April atmosphere, that seemed to blend, raise and idealize the features of the landscape until earth, water and sky were harmonized into celestial beauty. Paul was growing very anxious for the reappearance of Miriam, or for some news of her or her errand, yet dreading every moment an arrival of another sort. "Where could the distracted girl be? Would her report be received and acted upon by the magistrate? If so, what would be done? How would it all end? Would Thurston sleep in his own house or in a prison that night? When would Miriam return? Would she ever return, after having assumed such a task as she had taken upon herself?" These and other questions presented themselves every moment, as he walked up and down the piazza, keeping an eye upon the distant road. Presently a cloud of dust in the distance arrested both his attention and his promenade, and brought his anxiety to a crisis. He soon perceived a single horseman galloping rapidly down the road, and never removed his eyes until the horseman turned into the gate and galloped swiftly up to the house. Then with joy Paul recognized the rider, and ran eagerly down the stairs to give him welcome, and reached the paved walk just as Cloudy drew rein and threw himself from the saddle. The meeting was a cordial, joyous one--with Cloudy it was sincere, unmixed joy; with Paul it was only a pleasant surprise and a transient forgetfulness. Rapid questions were asked and answered, as they hurried into the house. Cloudy's ship had been ordered home sooner than had been expected; he had reached Norfolk a week before, B---- that afternoon, and had immediately procured a horse and hurried on home. Hence his unlooked-for arrival. "How is Thurston? How is Miriam? How are they all at Luckenough?" "All are well; the family at Luckenough are absent in the South, but are expected home every week." "And where is Miriam?" "At the village." "And Thurston?" "In his library, as usual," said Paul, and touched the bell to summon a messenger to send to Mr. Willcoxen. "Have you dined, Cloudy?"