“They watched me so, and whenever I was making friends with any nice American girl, they always rattled me off somewhere else.  I never did understand before what people meant when they talked about God being their only Friend, but I knew it then, for I had none at all, none else.  And I did not think He would help me, for now I knew I had been hard, and horrid and nasty, and cruel to you and Allen, the only people who ever cared for me for myself, and not for my horrid, horrid money, though I was the nastiest little wretch.  Oh!  Mother Carey, I did know it then, and I got quite sick with longing for one honest kiss—-or even one honest scolding of yours.  I used to cry all Church-time, and they used to try not to let me go—-and I felt just like the children of Israel in Egypt, as if I had got into heavy bondage, and the land of captivity.  O do speak, and let me hear your voice once more!  Your arm is so comfortable.”

Still it seemed that Elvira had resisted till another attempt was made.  While she was at a boarding-house on the Hudson a large picnic party was arranged, in which, after American fashion, gentlemen took ladies “to ride” in their traps to and from the place of rendezvous.  In returning, of course it had been as easy as possible for her chaperon to contrive that she should be left alone with no cavalier but Gilbert Gould, and he of course pretended to lose his way, drove on till night-fall, and then judgmatically met with an accident, which hurt nobody; but which he declared made the carriage incapable of proceeding.

After walking what Elvira fancied half the night, shelter was found in a hospitable farmhouse, where the people were wakened with difficulty.  They took care of the benighted wanderers, and the farmer drove them back to the hotel the next morning in his own waggon.  They were received by Mrs. Gould with great demonstrations both of affection, pity and dismay, and she declared that the affair had been so shocking and compromising that it was impossible to stay where they were.  She made Elvira take her meals in her room rather than face the boarding-house company, paid the bills (all of course with Elvira’s money) and carried her off to the Saratoga Springs, having taken good care not to allow her a minute’s conversation with anyone who would have told her that the freedom of American manners would make an adventure like hers be thought of no consequence at all.

The poor girl herself was assured by Mrs. Gould that this “unhappy escapade” left her no alternative but a marriage with Gilbert.  She would otherwise never be able to show her face again, for even if the affair were hushed up, reports would fly, and Mrs. Lisette took care they should fly, by ominous shakes of the head, and whispered confidences such as made the steadier portion of the Saratoga community avoid her, and brought her insolent attention from fast young men.  It was this, and a cold “What can you expect?’” from Lisette that finally broke down her defences, and made her permit the Goulds to make known that she was engaged to Gilbert.