Bessie chatted merrily during the greater part of the journey, but her companion remained sad and thoughtful.
Upon the travellers arriving at their destination, Bessie conducted her companion to a small, mean-looking cottage, in the rear of which was a large and well-cultivated garden.
The place was primitive enough in appearance.
Bessie Dalton unfastened the front door, which was opened with a small latch, and entered the parlour.
An exclamation of surprise, which was not unmixed with pleasure, proceeded from its solitary occupant.
“Why, Bessie, lass, who ever thought of seeing you?” cried a well-known voice.
“My dear aunt,” said Bessie in reply. “I have brought with me a very near and dear friend of mine, Mrs. Bristow, of whom you have often heard me speak.”
“You are welcome,” observed the old lady, addressing herself to her visitor. “I am much pleased to make your acquaintance. My niece has made me familiar with your name. Sit down.” The speaker handed a chair as she made this last observation.
The three women were very soon on the best of terms, and an animated conversation was kept up for the best part of the evening. A frugal supper was served by the hostess, and Bessie Dalton and Mrs. Bristow shared the only spare bed in the establishment.
They had, however, but a short period of rest that night, both being in too great a state of excitement to make sure of unbroken slumber.