Presently, as her eyes wandered hither and thither, they fell upon the inscriptions engraved on the stem of one of the trees. Thus they stood:—
Eugene.
Dec. 25, 1836.
Eugene.
May 17th, 1838.
The old woman marvelled what that name, twice inscribed, and those dates could mean.
But she did not trouble herself much with conjecture on that point: she had other business on hand, and was growing impatient because Ellen did not appear.
At length her penetrating eyes caught a glimpse of a female form approaching from the direction of the garden at the back of the mansion.
The hag watched that form attentively, and in a few moments exclaimed joyfully, "It is she!"
Ellen was indeed advancing up the hill. She had come forth for a short ramble; and the clearness of the day had prompted her to ascend the eminence which afforded so fine a view of the mighty metropolis at a little distance.