Willis was ill at ease. He met young Morgan on the steps, and returned his
bow very coldly. His usual companions were absent, and, after haunting the
saloon restlessly for an hour, he strolled down to his counting-house. He
knew that the foreign correspondence had just arrived, and, as he expected,
his confidential clerk was still at the desk. And here he found, much to
his dismay, that the presence of one of the firm was immediately necessary
in Paris, and that, as the partner who usually attended to this branch of
the business was ill, the journey would devolve on him. He was detained
until a late hour, and as he turned his steps homeward the scene that he
had left there rose vividly to his mind. He hurried up the steps, hoping to
find Catherine still there, but the room was empty, and the fire, glowing
redly through the bars of the grate, was the only thing to welcome him. He
stood a long time, leaning his elbow on the marble of the mantel, and
thought over many things that had happened within the last few years--the
many happy social evenings he had passed at that very hearth; the unvarying
love and constancy of his wife; of his late neglect, for he could call it
by no gentler name; and then came the thought that he must leave all this
domestic peace, which he had valued so little--and who knew what might
chance before he should return? He kissed his sleeping wife and child with
unwonted tenderness, as he entered their apartment, and thought that they
had never been so dear to him before.

It would be their first protracted separation, and Catherine was sad enough
when its necessity was announced to her. But all preparations were
hastened; and, at the close of the week, they were standing together in the
dining-room, the last trunk locked, and the carriage waiting at the door
that was to convey Willis to the steamer.

"And mind you do not get ill in my absence, Kate," he said, as he smoothed