Lawrence Newt rose as Hope requested, and they moved away. She found her aunt, and stood by her side. The young men were brought up and presented, and submitted their observations upon the weather, asked her how she liked New York--were delighted to hear that she would pass the next winter in the city--would show her then that New York had some claim to attention even from a Bostonian--were charmed, really, with Mr. Bowdoin Beacon and--and--Mr. Alfred Dinks; at mention of which name they looked in her face in the most gentlemanly manner to see the red result, as if the remark had been a blister, but they saw only an unconscious abstraction in her own thoughts, mingled with an air of attention to what they were saying. "Miss Hope," said Lawrence Newt, who approached her with a young woman by his side, "I want you to know my friend Amy Waring." The two girls looked at each other and bowed. Then they shook hands with a curious cordiality. Amy Waring had dark eyes--not round and hard and black--not ebony eyes, but soft, sympathetic eyes, in which you expect to see images as lovely as the Eastern traveler sees when he remembers home and looks in the drop held in the palm of the hand of the magician's boy. They had the fresh, unworn, moist light of flowers early in June mornings, when they are full of sun and dew. And there was the same transparent, rich, pure darkness in her complexion. It was not swarthy, nor black, nor gloomy. It did not look half Indian, nor even olive. It was an illuminated shadow. The two girls--they were women, rather--went together to a sofa and sat down. Hope Wayne's impulse was to lay her head upon her new friend's shoulder and cry; for Hope was prostrated by the unexpected vision of Abel, as a strong man is unnerved by sudden physical pain. She felt the overwhelming grief of a child, and longed to give way to it utterly. "I am glad to know you, Miss Wayne!" said Amy Waring, in a cordial, cheerful voice, with a pleasant smile. Hope bowed, and thanked her. "I find that Mr. Newt's friends always prove to be mine," continued Amy. "I am glad of it; but I don't know why I am his friend," said Hope. "I never saw him until to-day. He must have lived in Delafield. Do you know how that is?" She found conversation a great relief, and longed to give way to a kind of proud, indignant volubility. "No; but he seems to have lived every where, to have seen every thing, and to have known every body. A very useful acquaintance, I assure you!" said Amy, smiling. "Is he married?" asked Hope.