"But I wrote letters to her, too, asking what had become of you."
"She went to Minnesota, you know, early in February."
"She scolded me dreadfully because I would not. But she was so well, and she had her maid and a pleasant party of Philadelphia friends; and I--well, I didn't want to put all those hundreds of miles between me and the sea."
"And was Shaker Village so near, then, to the sea?"
"Oh, Charlie," hiding her face on my shoulder, "that was cowardice in me. You know I meant to keep the cottage open and live there. It was the saddest place in all the world, but still I wanted to be there--alone. But I found I could not be alone; and the last people who came drove me nearly wild--those R----s, Fanny Meyrick's friends--and they talked about her and about you, so that I could bear it no longer. I wanted to hide myself from all the world. I knew I could be quiet at the Shaker village. I had often driven over there with Aunt Sloman: indeed, Sophia--that's the one you saw--is a great friend of Aunt Maria's."
"So the lady-abbess confessed, did she?" I asked with some curiosity.
"Yes: she said you were rudely inquisitive; but she excused you as unfamiliar with Shaker ways."
"Yes, but don't be in a hurry: we'll come to that presently. Sophia gave me a pretty little room opening out of hers, and they all treated me with great kindness, if they _did_ call me Eliza."
"And did you," I asked with some impatience, remembering Hiram's description--"did you sew beads on velvet and plait straw for mats?"
"Nonsense! I did whatever I pleased. I was parlor-boarder, as they say in the schools. But I did learn something, sir, from that dear old sister Martha. You saw _her_?"
"Yes: isn't she a dear? I took lessons from her in all sorts of cookery: you shall see, Charlie, I've profited by being a Shakeress."
"Yes, my darling, but did you--you didn't go to church?"
"Only once," she said, with a shiver that made her all the dearer, "and they preached such dreary stuff that I told Sophia I would never go again."
"But did you really wear that dress I saw you in?"
"For that once only. You see, I was at Watervliet when you came. If you had only gone straight there, dear goose! instead of dodging in the road, you would have found me. I had grown a little tired of the monotony of the village, and was glad to join the party starting for Niskayuna, it was such a glorious drive across the mountain. I longed for you all the time."