_R. Browning_.


The servant came to call me down to tea while I was still sitting with
my face in my hands upon the bed. I started up, lit the candles on the
dressing-table, arranged my hair, washed the tears off my face, and
hurried down the stairs. They were waiting for me in the parlor, and no
doubt were quite impatient, as they had already waited for the arrival
of the evening train, and it was nearly eight o'clock. The evening train
had brought Mr. Eugene Whitney, of whom I can only say, that he was a
very insignificant young man indeed. We all moved into the dining-room;
the others took the seats they were accustomed to. Mr. Whitney and I,
being the only new-comers, were advised which seats belonged to us by a
trim young maid-servant, and I, for one, was very glad to get into mine.
Mr. Whitney was my neighbor on one hand, the youngest of the Hollenbeck
boys on the other. These were our seats:

Kilian,

Miss Leighton, Miss Henrietta Palmer,

Miss Benson, Mr. Eugene Whitney,

Tutor, Myself,

Boy, Boy,

Mrs. Hollenbeck.

The seat opposite me was not filled when we sat down.