“Five hours more,” was her first thought when she awoke next morning from a sounder sleep than she had supposed it possible to enjoy when under such excitement. Ere long it was four hours more, then three, then two, then one, and then the cars stopped at the depot at Yonkers. Two trunks marked “M. G.” stood upon the platform, and near them a figure in black, bowing to her friends, who leaned from the car window, and holding in her hands a satchel, a silk umbrella, two checks, her purse, and a book, for Marian possessed the weakness of her sex, and in traveling always carried the usual amount of baggage.
“To Riverside,” she said, when asked where she wished to go, and she looked around as if half expecting a familiar face.
But she looked in vain, and in a few moments she was comfortably seated in the lumbering stage, which once before had carried her up that long hill. Eagerly she strained her eyes to catch the first view of the house; and when at last it came in sight, she was too intent upon it to observe the showily-dressed young lady tripping along upon the walk, and holding her skirts with her thumb and finger so as to show her dainty slipper.
But if Marian did not see Isabel, Isabel saw her. It was not usual for the stage to come up at that hour of the day, and as it passed her by, Isabel turned to see where it was going.
“To Riverside,” she exclaimed, as she saw it draw up to the gate. “It must be the new governess,” and as there was no house very near, she stopped to inspect the stranger as well as she could at that distance. “Black,” she said, as Marian stepped upon the ground; “But I might have known it, for regular built teachers always wear black, I believe. She is rather tall, too. An umbrella, of course. I wonder she hasn’t her blanket shawl and overshoes this hot day. Her bonnet is pretty, and that hem in her veil very wide. On the whole, she’s quite genteel for a governess,” and Isabel walked on while Marian went up the graveled walk, expecting at each step to meet with either Frederic or Alice.
She would rather it should be the latter, for in case of recognition, she knew she could bind the blind girl to secrecy for a time, but no one appeared, and about the house there was no sign of life, save a parrot, which, in its cage beneath a maple tree, screamed out wholly unintelligible words. The door was shut, and even after the driver had placed her trunks upon the piazza and gone, Marian stood there ringing the bell. The window to her right was open, and she knew it was the window of Frederic’s room, but he was not sitting near it, and after a little she ventured to approach it and look in. It did not seem to have been occupied at all that day, for everything was arranged in perfect order as if broom and duster had recently done service there. Its prim, neat appearance affected Marian unpleasantly, as if it were the forerunner of some disappointment, and going back to the door she resolutely pulled the silver knob. The loud, sharp ring made her heart beat violently, and when she heard a heavy tread, not unlike a man’s coming up the basement stairs, she thought, “What if it is Frederic himself? What shall I say?”
“It is Frederic,” she continued, as the step came nearer, and she was wishing she could run away and hide, when the door was opened by Mrs. Russell, her feet encased in a pair of Mr. Raymond’s cast-off shoes, which accounted for her heavy tread, and herself looking a little crest-fallen at the sight of her visitor, whom she recognized at once.
“Miss Grey, I b’lieve?” she said, dropping a low curtsy. “We wan’t expectin’ you till to-morrow; but walk in, and make yourself at home. You’ll want to go to your room, I ’spose. Traveled all night, didn’t you? You look pale, and I wouldn’t wonder if you wanted to sleep most of the day. I never thought of such a thing as your comin’ this mornin’. Dear me, what shall I do?”
This was said in an under-tone, but it caught the ear of Marian, who, now that she had a chance to speak, asked for Mr. Raymond, timidly, as if fearful that with his name her secret might slip out.
“Bless you!” returned Mrs. Russell, “both of ’em went to New York early this morning, and won’t be home till dark, maybe, and that’s why I feel so. I don’t know how to entertain you as they do, and Miss Alice has been reckoning on giving you a good impression. I’m so sorry you’ve—they’ve gone, I mean. I wan’t expecting to get any dinner to-day, and was having such a nice time, sewin’ on my new dress;” and, with the last, the whole cause of the old lady’s uneasiness was divulged.