silk with velvet trimmings, and lace barb hanging from her head, she sat before the fire with a look of deep dejection and thoughtfulness upon her face, as if she too recked little of the creature comforts around her.  Aunt Barbara knew nothing of her coming, and was taken by surprise when the village hack stopped at the door, and Sister Sophia’s sable furs and beaver cloak alighted.  That something was the matter she suspected from her sister’s face the moment that lady removed her veil and gave the usual dignified kiss of greeting.  Things had gone wrong again with Frank and Nettie, most likely, she thought, for she was not ignorant, of the misunderstandings and misery arising from that unfortunate marriage, and she had about made up her mind to tell her sister just where the fault lay.  She would not spare Frank any longer, but would give him his just deserts.  She never dreamed that the trouble this time concerned Ethie, her own darling, the child whom she had loved so well, and pitied, and thought of so much since the time she left her out West with “those Philistines,” as she designated Richard’s family.  She had not heard from her for some time, but, in the last letter received, Ethie had written in a very cheerful strain, and told how gay and pleasant it was in Camden that winter.  Surely nothing had befallen her, and the good woman stood aghast when Mrs. Dr. Van Buren abruptly asked if Ethelyn was not there, or had been there lately, or heard from either.  What did it portend?  Had harm come upon Ethie?  And a shadow broke the placid surface of the sweet old face as Aunt Barbara put these questions, first to herself, and then to Mrs. Van Buren, who rapidly explained that Ethelyn had left her husband, and gone, no one knew whither.

“I hoped she might be here, and came up to see,” Mrs. Van Buren concluded; while Aunt Barbara steadied herself against the great bookcase in the corner, and wondered if she was going out of her senses, or had she heard aright, and was it her sister Van Buren sitting there before her, and saying such dreadful things.

She could not tell if it were real until Tabby sprang with a purring, caressing sound, upon her shoulder, and rubbed her soft sides against her cap.  That made it real, and brought the color back to her wrinkled face, but brought, also, a look of horror into her blue eyes, which sought Mrs. Van Buren’s with an eager, and yet terribly anxious glance.  Mrs. Dr. Van Buren understood the look.  Its semblance had been on her own face for an instant when she first heard the news, and now she hastened to dispossess her sister’s mind of any such suspicion.

“No, Barbara; Frank did not go with her, or even see her when in Camden.  He is not quite so bad as that, I hope.”