"It may not be for long," I warned her; "and then you may regret the advantages you have had here. You see, Niall may get too lonesome and send for you any time."

"I would love to see him and Granny and Father Owen and the others!" she exclaimed. "But if we went away to Ireland, I would like the dark gentleman to come too. Perhaps he would if you asked him."

"Everything will come right, I hope," I answered, evasively. "And I am very glad you like the dark gentleman, because you may see him very often when you are older."

"Do you think so?" she asked eagerly. "Oh, I shall like that! But are you perfectly sure of it?"

"I am almost sure of it," I replied; and then, telling her that the bell was about to ring for the departure of visitors, I hurried away, for fear she might begin to question me too closely.

After that I had many lonely days of anxious waiting as the winter sped drearily away. February and then March drew their slow lengths along, and my letters were still unanswered. April was ushered in, more changeable than ever; mornings of sunshine being followed by afternoons of rain, and days of almost midsummer heat giving place to the chilliest of evenings.

One day I was sitting in my room at the hotel, embroidering a little, and disconsolately watching the throng on Broadway, when there came a knock at my door. A bell-boy entered with two letters upon a salver. My heart gave a great throb as I seized them, recognizing on both the Irish postmark. Broadway, with its throng of people, faded from before me; and I held the two letters in my hand—reading the address, now on one, now on the other, and putting off the moment of opening them; for I felt a curious dread. Suppose Niall should hold me to my promise or sternly command me to bring Winifred forthwith back to Ireland without even revealing her identity to Roderick? At last I broke the seal of one of the letters with a hand that trembled. I had to control a nervous agitation, which almost prevented me from seeing the characters before me, as with a pale face, I began to read.


CHAPTER XXIV. LETTERS AT LAST.