Even through the darkness Anna could see the blue eyes flash, and the delicate nostrils dilate as Lucy gave vent to her wrath against the luckless Thornton Hastings. “You will meet him at Saratoga. He is always there in the summer, but don’t you speak to him, _the hateful_. He’ll be calling you frivolous next.” An amused smile flitted across Anna’s face as she asked, “But won’t you too be at Saratoga? I supposed you were all going there.” “_Cela depend_,” Lucy replied. “I would so much rather stay here, the dressing, and dancing, and flirting tire me so, and then you know what Arthur said about taking me for his deaconess in your place.” There was a call just then from the hall below. Mrs. Meredith was getting impatient of the delay, and with a good-by kiss, Anna went down the stairs, and stood out upon the piazza, where her aunt was waiting. Mr. Leighton had accepted Fanny’s invitation to stay to tea, and he handed the ladies to their carriage, lingering a moment while he said his parting words, for he was going out of town to-morrow, and when he returned Anna would be gone. “You will think of us sometimes,” he said, still holding Anna’s hand. “St. Mark’s will be lonely without you. God bless you and bring you safely back.” There was a pressure of the hand, a lifting of Arthur’s hat, and then the carriage moved away; but Anna, looking back, saw Arthur standing by Lucy’s side, fastening a rose-bud in her hair, and at that sight the gleam of hope which for an instant had crept into her heart passed away with a sigh. CHAPTER VII. AT NEWPORT. Moved by a strange impulse, Thornton Hastings took himself and his fast bays to Newport instead of Saratoga, and thither, the first week in August, came Mrs. Meredith, with eight large trunks, her niece, and her niece’s wardrobe, which had cost the pretty sum of eighteen hundred dollars.