The New Year's party was a nondescript — young and old together; a goodly number of both were gathered from Randolph and the neighbouring country. There were games for the young, dancing for the gay, and a superb supper for all; and the big, bright rooms were full of bright faces. It was a very happy evening to Ellen. For a good part of it, Mr. Marshman took possession of her, or kept her near him; and his extreme kindness would alone have made the evening pass pleasantly; she was sure he was her firm friend again. In the course of the evening, Mrs. Chauncey found occasion to ask her about her journey up the river, without at all mentioning Margaret, or what she had said. Ellen answered that she had come with Mrs. Dunscombe and her daughter. "Did you have a pleasant time?" asked Mrs. Chauncey. "Why, no, Ma'am." Said Ellen — "I don't know — it was partly pleasant, and partly unpleasant." "What made it so, love?" "I had left Mamma that morning, and that made me unhappy." "But you said it was partly pleasant?" "Oh, that was because I had such a good friend on board," said Ellen, her face lighting up, as his image came before her. "Who was that?" "I don't know, Ma'am, who he was." "A stranger to you?" "Yes, Ma'am — I never saw him before — I wish I could see him again." "Where did you find him?" "I didn't find him — he found me, when I was sitting up on the highest part of the boat." "And your friends with you?" "What friends?" "Mrs. Dunscombe and her daughter." "No, Ma'am — they were down in the cabin." "And what business had you to be wandering about the boat alone?" said Mr. Marshman, good-humouredly. "They were strangers, Sir," said Ellen, colouring a little. "Well, so was this man — your friend — a stranger, too, wasn't he?" "Oh, he was a very different stranger," said Ellen, smiling, — "and he wasn't a stranger long, besides." "Well, you must tell me more about him — come, I'm curious; — what sort of a strange friend was this?" "He wasn't a _strange_ friend," said Ellen, laughing; — "he was a very, very good friend; he took care of me the whole day; he was very good and very kind." "What kind of a man?" said Mrs. Chauncey; — "a gentleman?" "Oh, yes, Ma'am!" said Ellen, looking surprised at the question. "I am sure he was." "What did he look like?" Ellen tried to tell, but the portrait was not very distinct. "What did he wear? Coat or cloak?" "Coat — dark brown, I think." "This was the end of October, wasn't it?" Ellen thought a moment and answered, "yes." "And you don't know his name?" "No, Ma'am; I wish I did." "I can tell you," said Mrs. Chauncey, smiling; — "he is one of my best friends, too, Ellen; it is my brother, Mr. George Marshman." How Ellen's face crimsoned! Mr. Marshman asked how she knew.