“You will not be able to do this kind of thing abroad,” said Hubert. “Do you know we are monstrously improper? For a young girl it’s by no means pure gain, going to Europe. She comes into a very pretty heritage of prohibitions. You have no idea of the number of improper things a young girl can do. You are walking on the edge of a precipice. Don’t look over or you will lose your head and never walk straight again. Here, you are all blindfold. Promise me not to lose this blessed bandage of American innocence. Promise me that, when you come back, we shall spend another morning together as free and delightful as this one!” “I promise you!” said Nora; but Hubert’s words had potently foreshadowed the forfeiture of sweet possibilities. For the rest of the drive she was in a graver mood. They found Roger beneath the portico of the hotel, watch in hand, staring up and down the street. Preceding events having been explained to him, he offered to drive his cousin home. “I suppose Nora has told you,” he began, as they proceeded. “Yes! Well, I am sorry. She is a charming girl.” “Ah!” Roger cried: “I knew you thought so!” “You are as knowing as ever! She sails, she tells me, on Wednesday next. And you, when do you sail?” “I don’t sail at all. I am going home.” “Are you sure of that?” Roger gazed for a moment out of the window. “I mean for a year,” he said, “to allow her perfect liberty.” “And to accept the consequences?” “Absolutely.” And Roger folded his arms. This conversation took place on a Friday. Nora was to sail from New York on the succeeding Wednesday; for which purpose she was to leave Boston with Mrs. Keith on the Monday. The two ladies were of course to be attended to the ship by Roger. Early Sunday morning Nora received a visit from her friend. The reader will perhaps remember that Mrs. Keith was a recent convert to the Roman Catholic faith; as such, she performed her religious duties with peculiar assiduity. Her present errand was to propose that Nora should go with her to church and join in offering a mass for their safety at sea. “I don’t want to bring you over, you know; but I think it would be so nice,” said Mrs. Keith. Appealing to Roger, Nora received permission to do as she chose; she therefore lent herself with fervor to this pious enterprise. The two ladies spent an hour at the foot of the altar,—an hour of romantic delight to the younger one. On Sunday evening Roger, who, as the day of separation approached, became painfully anxious and reluctant, betook himself to Mrs. Keith, with the desire to enforce upon her mind a solemn sense of her responsibilities and of the value of the treasure he had confided to her. Nora, left alone, sat wondering whether Hubert might not come to bid her farewell. Wandering listlessly about the room, her eye fell on the Saturday-evening paper. She took it up and glanced down the columns. In one of them she perceived a list of the various