He took care of her down the stairs, and saw her safe to the very door of the saloon, and within it, and there again took her hand, and kindly bade her good-night. Ellen entered the saloon only to sit down and cry as if her heart would break. She saw and heard nothing till Mrs. Dunscombe's voice bade her make haste and be ready, for they were going ashore in five minutes. And in less than five minutes, ashore they went. "Which hotel, Ma’am?" asked the servant who carried her baggage — "the Eagle, or Foster's?" "The Eagle," said Mrs. Dunscombe. "Come this way, then, Ma’am," said another man, the driver of the Eagle carriage; "now, Ma’am, step in, if you please." Mrs. Dunscombe put her daughter in. "But it's full!" said she to the driver; "there isn't room for another one!" "Oh yes, Ma’am, there is," said the driver, holding the door open "there's plenty of room for you, Ma’am — just get in, Ma’am, if you please — we'll be there in less than two minutes." "Timmins, you'll have to walk," said Mrs. Dunscombe. "Miss Montgomery, would you rather ride, or walk with Timmins?" "How far is it, Ma’am?" said Ellen. "Oh, bless me! how can I tell how far it is? I don't know, I am sure — not far; say, quick — would you rather walk or ride?" "I would rather walk, Ma’am, if you please," said Ellen. "Very well," said Mrs. Dunscombe, getting in; — "Timmins, you know the way." And off went the coach with its load; but, tired as she was, Ellen did not wish herself in it. Picking a passage-way out of the crowd, she and Timmins now began to make their way up one of the comparatively quiet streets. It was a strange place — that she felt. She had lived long enough in the place she had left, to feel at home there: but here she came to no street or crossing that she had ever seen before; nothing looked familiar; all reminded her that she was a traveller. Only one pleasant thing Ellen saw on her walk, and that was the sky; and that looked just as it did at home; and very often Ellen's gaze was fixed upon it, much to the astonishment of Miss Timmins, who had to be not a little watchful for the safety of Ellen's feet while her eyes were thus employed. She had taken a great fancy to Ellen, however, and let her do as she pleased, keeping all her wonderment to herself. "Take care, Miss Ellen!" cried Timmins, giving her arm a great pull; "I declare I just saved you out of that gutter! Poor child! you are dreadfully tired, ain't you?" "Yes, I am very tired, Miss Timmins," said Ellen; "have we much farther to go?" "Not a great deal, dear; cheer up! we are almost there. I hope Mrs. Dunscombe will want to ride one of these days herself, and can't." "Oh, don't say so, Miss Timmins," said Ellen, — "I don't wish so, indeed." "Well, I should think you would," said Timmins; "I should think you'd be fit to poison her; — _I_ should, I know, if I was in your place." "Oh, no," said Ellen, "that wouldn't be right — that would be very wrong."