AFTER an absence of a week, or ten days, Harry returned to Wyllys-Roof, not at all sorry to hear that he was too late to see the Grahams, as they were going to New York the next morning. He was very attentive to Elinor—pointedly so. Once or twice, she was going to jest with him upon the subject, and inquire the cause of this studied gallantry; but observing he was still a little out of spirits, she contented herself with thanking him for the books he had brought her.
The next day proved so mild, so hazy, and Indian-summer-like, that Hazlehurst proposed to take advantage of it, to give the ladies a row on the river. They were out for a couple of hours, landed on the opposite bank, and paid a visit to their friends, the Bernards, who lived a mile or two below them. The air was delightful, the country looked beautiful—fresher, perhaps, than at midsummer; for the heat was no longer parching, and the September showers had washed away the dust, and brought out the green grass again. Harry had become interested in the conversation, and was particularly agreeable; Miss Agnes was pleased with his remarks, and Elinor thought she had never passed a pleasanter morning; she was little aware that it was to be followed by many anxious, painful days.
They landed, as usual, at the boat-house; and the ladies prepared to walk slowly across the lawn, while Harry secured the boat and oars. As they approached the house, they were surprised to see several of the servants collected on the piazza, listening so intently to a lad that they did not see the ladies. Old Hetty, a superannuated negro cook, who had lived all her life in the family, was wringing her hands and wiping her eyes with her apron; while Mammy Sarah, Elinor's former nurse, a respectable white woman, was talking to the boy.
Elinor quickened her pace, and hastened before her aunt, to inquire into the cause of this distress.
"What is it, Mammy?" she asked, on reaching the piazza. "What is the matter?"
"Oh, dearie me; Miss Elly, Miss Elly!" exclaimed old Hetty; with a fresh burst of tears.
"Tell us—Hetty—Mammy—what has happened?" said Miss Wyllys, as she approached.
"Oh, Miss Aggess, Miss Aggess—dreadful news!" said the old negro woman, burying her face in her apron.
"My father?" asked Miss Agnes, faintly, and trembling with alarm.
"No, ma'am," said Mammy Sarah, looking very sad, however; "Mr. Wyllys is very well, and we were hoping he would come in before you, so that we could get at the truth."