"No, wait here. I shall return--soon."

The young woman walked away, erect, well-poised, lifting skirts
skilfully as she paused a moment at the top of the stone steps leading
down into the tiny park. The driver of the machine, free from
observation, allowed a perplexed look to occupy his countenance. "What
the devil is to pay if she doesn't return--_soon_!"

The avenue lifts a camel's hump toward the sky in the space of fifteen
blocks, and on the top, secure as the howdah of a chieftain, stands the
noble portico of the old college. To the westward, as every one knows,
lie the river and the more pretentious park; on the east an abrupt
descent offers space for a small grassy playground for children, who
may be seen, during the sunny hours of the day, romping over the slope.

As the gaze of the woman swept over the charming little pleasance, and
beyond, over the miles of sign-boards, roofs, chimneys, and
intersecting streets, the serious look disappeared from her face.
Summer haze and distance shed a gentle beauty over what she knew to be
a clamoring city--New York. Angles were softened, noises subdued,
sensational scenes lost in the dimmed perspective. To a chance
observer, the prospect would have been deeply suggestive; in the woman
it stirred many memories. She put back her veil; her face glowed; a
long sigh escaped her lips. Slowly she walked down the steps, along
the sloping path to a turn, where she sank down on a bench. A rosy,
tired child, rather the worse for mud-pies, and hanging reluctantly at
the hand of its nonchalant nurse, brought a bit of the woman's emotion
to the surface. She smiled radiantly at the lagging infant.