"No one," John answered, more puzzled than ever. "I was looking for you, and there was no one else. She may have fallen asleep and been carried by."
"Yes, probably that is it," Mr. Tracy said, more cheerfully; "she was asleep and carried by. She will come back to-morrow."
He seemed quite content with this solution of the mystery, and began to talk of his luggage, which lay upon the platform—a pile so immense that John looked at it in alarm, knowing that the carriage could never take it all.
"Eight trunks, two portmanteaus, and a hat-box!" he said, aloud, counting the pieces.
"Yes, and a nice sum those rascally agents in New York made me pay for having them come with me," Arthur rejoined. "They weighed them all, and charged me a little fortune. I might as well have sent them by express; but I wanted them with me, and here they are. What will you do with them? This is hers," and he designated a black trunk or box, longer and larger than two ordinary trunks ought to be.
"I can take one of them with the box and portmanteau, and the expressman will take the rest. He is here. Hullo, Brown!" John said, calling to a man in the distance, who came forward, and, on learning what was wanted, began piling the trunks into his wagon, while Arthur followed John to the carriage, which he entered, and sinking into a seat, pulled his broad-brimmed hat over his face and eyes, and sat as motionless as if he had been a stone.
For a moment John stood looking at him, wondering what manner of man he was, and thinking of the woman who, he said, had been with him in the train. At last, remembering a message his master had given him, he began:
"If you please, sir, Mr. Tracy told me to tell you he was very sorry that he could not come himself to meet you. If he had known that you were coming sooner, he would have done different; but he did not get your telegram till this morning, and then it was too late to stop it. We are having a great break-down to-night."
During the first of these remarks Arthur had given no sign that he heard, but when John spoke of a break-down, he lifted his head quickly, and the great black eyes flashed a looked of inquiry upon John, as he said:
"Break-down? What's that?"
"A party—a smasher! Mr. Tracy is running for Congress," was John's reply.
And then over the thin face there crept a ghost of a smile, which, faint as it was, changed the expression wonderfully.
"Oh, a party!" he said. "Well, I will be a guest, too. I have my dressing-suit in some of those trunks. Frank is going to Congress, is he? That's a good joke! Drive on. What are you standing there for?"
The carriage door was shut, and, mounting the box, John drove as rapidly toward Tracy Park as the darkness of the night would admit, while the passenger inside sat with his hat over his eyes, and his chin almost touching his breast, as if absorbed in thought. Once he spoke to himself, and said:
"Poor little Gretchen! I wonder how I could have forgotten and left her in the train. What will she do alone in a strange place? But perhaps Heaven will take care of her. She always said so. I wish I had her faith and could believe as she does."
They had turned into the park by this time, and very soon drew up before the house, from every window of which lights were flashing, while the sound of music and dancing could be distinctly heard.
"I need not ring at my own house," Arthur thought, as he ran up the steps, and, opening the door, stepped into the hall; and thus it was that the first intimation which Frank had of his arrival was when he saw him standing in the midst of a crowd of people, who were gazing curiously at him.
"Arthur!" he exclaimed, rushing forward and taking his brother's hand. "Welcome home again! I did not hear the carriage, though I was listening for it. I am so glad to see you! Come with me to your room;" and he led the way up stairs to the apartment prepared for the stranger.
He had seen at a glance that Arthur was alone, unless, indeed, he had brought a servant who had gone to the side door; and thus relieved from a load of anxiety, he was very cordial in his manner, and began at once to make excuses for the party, repeating, in substance, what John had already said.
"Yes, I know; that fellow who drove me here told me," Arthur replied, throwing off his coat and hat, and beginning to lave his face, and neck, and hands in the cold water which he turned into the bowl until it was full to the brim, and splashed over the sides as he dashed it upon himself.
All this time Frank had not seen his face distinctly, nor did he have an opportunity to do so until the ablutions were ended, and Arthur had rubbed himself with, not one towel, but two, until it seemed as if he must have taken off the skin in places. Then he turned, and running his fingers through his luxuriant hair, which had a habit of curling around his forehead as in his boyhood, looked full at his brother, who saw that he was very pale, and that his eyes were unnaturally large and bright, while there was about him an indescribable something which puzzled Frank a little. It was not altogether the air of foreign travel and cultivation which was so perceptible, but a something else—a restlessness and nervousness of speech and manner as he moved about the room, walking rapidly and gesticulating as he walked.
"You are looking thin and tired. Are you not well?" Frank asked.
"Oh, yes, perfectly well," Arthur replied; "only this infernal heat in my blood, which keeps me up to fever pitch all the time. I shall have to bathe my face again;" and, going a second time to the bowl, he began to throw the water over his face and hands as he had done before.
"I'd like a bath in ice-water," he said, as he began drying himself with a fresh towel. "If I remember right, there is no bath-room on this floor, but I can soon have one built. I intend to throw down the wall between this room and the next, and perhaps the next, so as to have a suite."
The second washing must have cooled him, for there came a change in his manner, and he moved more slowly and spoke with greater deliberation as he asked some questions about the people below.
"Will you come down by and by," Frank said, after having made some explanations with regard to his guests.
"No, you will have to excuse me," Arthur replied. "I am too tired to encounter old acquaintances or make new. I do not believe I could stand old Peterkin, who you say is a millionaire. I suppose you want his influence; your coachman told me you were running for Congress," and Arthur laughed the old merry, musical laugh which Frank remembered so well; then, suddenly changing his tone, he asked: "When does the next train from the East pass the station?"
Frank told him at seven in the morning, and he continued:
"Please send the carriage to meet it. Gretchen will probably be there. She was in the train with me, and should have gotten out when I did, but she must have been asleep and carried by."
"Gr-gr-gretchen! Who is she?" Frank stammered, while the cold sweat began to run down his back.
Instantly into Arthur's eyes there came a look of cunning, as he replied:
"She is Gretchen. See that the carriage goes for her, will you?"
His voice and manner indicated that he wished the conference ended, and with a great sinking at his heart Frank left the room and returned to his guests and his wife, who had not seen the stranger when he entered the hall, and did not know of Arthur's arrival until her husband rejoined her.
"He has come," he whispered to her, while she whispered back:
"Is he alone?"
"Yes, but somebody is coming to-morrow; I do not know who; Gretchen, he calls her," was Frank's reply.
"Gretchen!" Mrs. Tracy repeated, in a trembling voice. "Who is she?"
"I don't know. He merely said she was Gretchen; his daughter, perhaps," was Frank's answer, which sent the color from his wife's cheeks, and made her so faint and sick that she could scarcely stand, and did not know at all what her guests were saying to her.
Meantime, Arthur had changed his mind with regard