"I don't think Amy remembered the lines, or she would not have said that. I don't think Professor Bartlett would begin an album verse: 'I drink to the eyes of my schoolmate, Grace.' I knew that Amy had told a falsehood, and I watched her. She took the first opportunity, when she thought I did not see her, to whisper something to Grace. I saw that Grace looked annoyed, but Amy laughed, and the two seemed to agree upon something.
"I thought I would come to the city the next day, but in the morning my boy was very sick; he was sick for more than two weeks, and I had no time to think of anything else. Amy helped Grace, and was so kind and useful that I almost forgave her for telling me a fib. I had sent your letter back during Fred's illness, and, when he began to mend, I thought the matter over and over. I knew it would be useless to question Grace, and I did not know what harm or scandal I might bring upon my own daughter by bringing the matter to your notice. I tried to convince myself that the similarity of the printing was accidental, and, as I had not the letter to compare with the album, it was easier to believe so. I concluded to wait, but became very watchful.
"One night Fred brought in the mail; there was a letter for Amy; she opened it and began to read, then she uttered a quick word, and looked much pleased. I saw an anxious look on my girl's face and caught a glance that passed between them. By-and-by they both went up-stairs, and in a few minutes I followed, and listened at the door of their room.
"Amy was reading her letter to Grace. I could tell that by the hum of her voice, but I could not catch a word, until Grace exclaimed, sharply, 'What! the 17th?' 'Yes, the 17th, hush,' Amy answered, and then went on with her reading. I could not catch a single word more, so I went back down-stairs. It was then about the ninth of the month, and I thought it might be as well to keep my eyes open on the 17th, though it might have meant last month, or any other month, for all I could guess. After that Amy seemed in better spirits than usual, and Grace was gay and nervous by turns. On the 17th the girls stayed in their room, as usual—that was four days ago."
She paused a moment, during which my eyes never left her face; she sighed heavily, and resumed:
"I felt fidgety all day, as if something was going to happen. I expected to see the girls preparing for company, or to go somewhere, but they did no such thing. When evening came, they went to their room earlier than usual, but I sat up later than I often do. It was almost eleven o'clock when I went up-stairs, and then I could not sleep. I stopped and listened again at the door of the girls' room, but could hear nothing. They might both have been asleep.
"It was very warm, and I threw open my shutters, and sat down by the window, thinking that I was not sleepy, and, of course, I fell asleep. All at once something awoke me. I started and listened; in a moment I heard it again; it was the snort of a horse. There was no moon, and the shrubbery and trees made the front yard, from the gate to the house, very dark. As I heard no wheels nor hoofs, of course I knew that the horse was standing still, and the sound came from the front. I sat quite still and listened hard. By-and-by I heard something else. This time it was a faint rustling among the bushes below—it was not enough to have aroused even a light sleeper, but I was wide awake, and all ears. 'Somebody is creeping through my rose bushes,' I said to myself, then tip-toed to my bureau, got out the pistol you gave me, and slipped out, and down-stairs, as still as a mouse.