"Are you sure? Is that it?" said Mrs. Rossitur, rising and looking over the words again. "He would do anything, Fleda."
"That is what he means, aunt Lucy; don't you see he says he could not be safe anywhere in America?"
Mrs. Rossitur stood eyeing with intense eagerness, for a minute or two, the note in her niece's hand.
"Then he is gone! now that it is all settled! And we don't know where and we can't get word to him!"
Her cheek, which had a little brightened, became perfectly white again.
"He isn't gone yet he can't be he cannot have left Queechy till to-day he will be in New York for several days yet, probably."
"New York? it may be Boston!"
"No, he would be more likely to go to New York I am sure he would he is accustomed to it."
"We might write to both places," said poor Mrs. Rossitur. "I will do it, and send them off at once."
"But he might not get the letters," said Fleda, thoughtfully; "he might not dare to ask at the post-office."