She had breakfast over early, made the room very tidy, dressed Miriam in her holiday clothes, put on her own Sunday gown, and sat down to wait for Marian and the visitor.  The morning passed slowly, in momentary expectation of an arrival.

It was near eleven o’clock when she looked up and saw Colonel Thornton’s carriage approaching the cottage.

“There!  I said so!  I knew Marian had remained with Miss Thornton, and that they would bring her home this morning.  I suppose Colonel Thornton and his sister are both with her!  And now for the revelation!  I wonder what it is,” said Edith, smiling to herself, as she arose and stroked down her dress, and smoothed her ringlets, preparatory to meeting her guests.

By this time the carriage had drawn up before the cottage gate.  Edith went out just in time to see the door opened, and Miss Thornton alight.  The lady was alone—­that Edith saw at the first glance.

“What can be the meaning of this?” she asked herself, as she went forward to welcome her visitor.

But Miss Thornton was very pale and tremulous, and she acted altogether strangely.

“How do you do, Miss Thornton?  I am very glad to see you,” said Edith, cordially offering her hand.

But the lady seized it, and drew her forcibly towards the door, saying in a husky voice: 

“Come in—­come in!”

Full of surprise, Edith followed her.

“Sit down,” she continued, sinking into a chair, and pointing to a vacant one by her side.

Edith took the seat, and waited in wonder for her further speech.

“Where is Marian?” asked Miss Thornton, in an agitated voice.

“Where?  Why, I believed her to be at your house!” answered Edith, in surprise and vague fear.

“Good heaven!” exclaimed the lady, growing very pale, and trembling in every limb.  Edith started up in alarm.

“Miss Thornton, what do you mean?  For mercy’s sake, tell me, has anything happened?”

“I do not know—­I am not sure—­I trust not—­tell me! when did you see her last?  When did she leave home? this morning?”

“No! last evening, about sundown.”

“And she has not returned?  You have not seen her since?”

“No!”

“Did she tell you where she was going?”

“No!”

“Did she promise to come back? and when?”

“She promised to return before dark!  She did not do so!  I judged the storm had detained her, and that she was with you, and I felt easy.”

“Oh, God!” cried the lady, in a voice of deep distress,

“Miss Thornton! for Heaven’s sake! tell me what has occurred!”

“Oh, Edith!”

“In mercy, explain yourself—­Marian! what of Marian?”

“Oh, God, sustain you, Edith! what can I say to you? my own heart is lacerated!”

“Marian!  Marian! oh! what has happened to Marian!  Oh! where is Marian?”