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                          MISS DIVIDENDS

                             A Novel

                  BY ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER

    AUTHOR OF "MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK," "MR. POTTER OF TEXAS," "THAT
    FRENCHMAN!" "MISS NOBODY OF NOWHERE," "SMALL BOYS IN BIG BOOTS," "A
    FLORIDA ENCHANTMENT," ETC., ETC.


    NEW YORK
    THE HOME PUBLISHING COMPANY
    3 EAST FOURTEENTH STREET
    1892

    COPYRIGHT, 1892,
    BY A. C. GUNTER.

    _All rights reserved._

    Press of J. J. Little & Co.
    Astor Place, New York




CONTENTS.


    BOOK I. THE GIRL FROM NEW YORK.

    I.--Mr. West                                                     7

    II.--Miss East                                                  17

    III.--Her Father's Friend                                       30

    IV.--Mr. Ferdie begins his Western Investigations               38

    V.--The Grand Island Eating-House                               54

    VI.--Mr. Ferdie Discovers a Vigilante                           66

    VII.--What Manner of Man is This?                               77


    BOOK II. A CURIOUS CLUB MAN.

    VIII.--The City of Saints                                      101

    IX.--The Ball in Salt Lake                                     115

    X.--"Papa!"                                                    135

    XI.--"For Business Purposes"                                   153

    XII.--A Daughter of the Church                                 166

    XIII.--The Love of a Bishop                                    179

    XIV.--A Rare Club Story                                        197


    BOOK III. OUT OF A STRANGE COUNTRY.

    XV.--The Snow-Bound Pullman                                    217

    XVI.--"To the Girl I Love!"                                    233

    XVII.--A Voice in the Night                                    240

    XVIII.--The Last of the Danites                                251

    XIX.--Orange Blossoms among the Snow                           264




MISS DIVIDENDS.




BOOK I.

THE GIRL FROM NEW YORK.




CHAPTER I.

MR. WEST.


"Five minutes behind your appointment," remarks Mr. Whitehouse Southmead
in kindly severity; then he laughs and continues: "You see, your oysters
are cold."

"As they should be, covered up with ice," returns Captain Harry Storey
Lawrence. A moment after, however, he adds more seriously, "I had a good
excuse."

"An excuse for keeping _this_ waiting?" And Whitehouse pours out
lovingly a glass of Chateau Yquem.

"Yes, and the best in the world, though probably not one that would be
considered good by a lawyer."

"Aha! a woman?" rejoins Mr. Southmead.

"The most beautiful I have ever seen!" cries Lawrence, the enthusiasm of
youth beaming in his handsome dark eyes.

"Pooh!" returns the other, "you have only been from the Far West for
three days."

"True," remarks Lawrence. "Three days ago I was incompetent, but am not
now. You see, I have been living in a mining camp in Southern Utah for
the last year, where all women are scarce and none beautiful. For my
first three days in New York, every woman I met on the streets seemed to
me a houri. Now, however, I am beginning to discriminate. My taste has
become normal, and I pronounce the young lady whose fan I picked up on
the stairs a few moments ago, just what I have called her. Wouldn't you,
if she had eyes----"

"Oh, leave the eyes and devote yourself to the oysters," interjects the
more practical Southmead. "You cannot have fallen in love with a girl
while picking up her fan; besides, I have business to talk to you about
this evening,--business upon which the success of your present
transaction may depend."

"You do not think the financial effort France is making to pay its war
indemnity to Germany will stop the sale of my mine?" says the young man
hurriedly, seating himself opposite his companion, and the two begin to
discuss the charming _petit souper_, such as one bachelor gave to
another in old Delmonico's on Fourteenth Street and Fifth Avenue before
canvas-back ducks had become quite as expensive as they now are, and
terrapin had become so scarce that mud-turtles frequently masquerade for
diamond-backs, even in our most expensive restaurants. For this
conversation and this supper took place in the autumn of 1871, before
fashionable New York had moved above Twenty-third Street, when Neilson
was about to enter into the glory of her first season at the Academy,
when Capoul was to be the idol of the ladies, and dear little Duval was
getting ready to charm the public by her polonaise in "Mignon."

This year, 1871, had marked several changes in the business of these
United States of America. During the War of the Confederacy,
speculators, under the guise of Government contractors, had stolen great
sums from Uncle Sam. In 1865 the Government changed its policy, and
began to make presents of fortunes to speculators, thus saving them the
trouble of robbing it.

In 1868 it had just finished presenting a syndicate of Boston
capitalists with the Union Pacific Railway, many millions of dollars in
solid cash, and every alternate section of Government land for twenty
miles on each side of their thousand miles of track. It had, also, been
equally generous to five small Sacramento capitalists, and had presented
them with the Central Pacific Railway, the same amount of Government
land, and some fifty-five millions of dollars, and had received in
return for all this--not even thanks.

The opening of these railroads, however, had brought the West and East
in much more intimate connection. Mines had been developed in Utah and
Colorado, and the Western speculator, with his indomitable energy, had
opened up a promising market for various silver properties in the West,
not only in New York and other Eastern cities, but in Europe itself.

One of the results of this is the appearance in New York of the young
man, Captain Harry Storey Lawrence, who has come to complete the
negotiations for the sale of a silver property in which he is
interested, to an English syndicate, the lawyer representing the same in
America being Mr. Whitehouse Southmead, who is now seated opposite to
him.

As the two men discuss their oysters, champagne, partridges and salad,
their appearances are strikingly dissimilar. Southmead, who is perhaps
fifty, is slightly gray and slightly bald, and has the characteristics
of an easy-going family lawyer,--one to whom family secrets, wealth and
investments, might be implicitly trusted, though he is distinctly not
that kind of advocate one would choose to fight a desperate criminal
case before a jury, where it was either emotional insanity or murder.

The man opposite to him, however, were he a lawyer, would have been just
the one for the latter case, for the most marked characteristic in Harry
Storey Lawrence's bearing, demeanor and appearance is that of
resolution, unflinching, indomitable,--not the resolution of a stubborn
man, but one whose fixed purpose is dominated by reason and directed by
wisdom.

He has a broad, intellectual forehead, a resolute chin and lower lip.
These would be perhaps too stern did not his dark, flashing eyes have in
them intelligence as well as passion, humanity as well as firmness. His
hair is of a dark brown, for this man is a brunette, not of the Spanish
type, but of the Anglo-Saxon. His mustache, which is long and drooping,
conceals a delicate upper lip, which together with the eyes give
softness and humanity to a countenance that but for them would look too
combative. His figure, considerably over the middle height, has that
peculiar activity which is produced only by training in open air,--not
the exercise of the athlete, but that of the soldier, the pioneer, the
adventurer; for Harry Lawrence has had a great deal of this kind of life
in his twenty-nine years of existence.

Leaving his engineering studies at college, he had entered the army as a
lieutenant at the opening of the rebellion, and in two years had found
himself the captain of an Iowa battery--the only command which gives to
a young officer that independence which makes him plan as well as act.
But, having fought for his country and not for a career, as soon as the
rebellion had finished, this citizen soldier had resigned, and until
1868 had been one of the division engineers of the Union Pacific
Railway. On the completion of that great road, he had found himself at
Ogden, and had devoted himself to mining in Utah.

Altogether, he looks like a man who could win a woman's heart and take
very good care of it; though, perhaps his appearance would hardly
please one of the strong-minded sisterhood, for there is an indication
of command and domination in his manner, doubtless arising from his
military experience.

As the two gentlemen discuss their supper, their conversation first
turns on business; though, from Lawrence's remarks it is apparent there
is a conflicting interest in his mind, that of the young lady whom he
has just seen down-stairs.

"You don't think that _milliard_ going to the Germans will affect the
sale of the Mineral Hill Mine," asks Harry, earnestly, opening the
conversation.

"Not at all," replies the lawyer. "No fluctuation in funds can affect
the capital the English company is about to invest, and has already
deposited in the bank for that purpose."

"Then what more do they want? The mine has already been reported upon
favorably by their experts and engineers."

"They insist, however, upon a title without contest," returns Southmead.

"Why, you yourself have stated that our title to the Mineral Hill was
without flaw," interjects the young man hastily.

"Certainly," answers the lawyer; "but not without _contest_. I have
to-day received a letter from Utah, stating that there is apt to be
litigation in regard to your property. If so, it must certainly delay
its sale."

"Oh, I know what you mean," cries Harry, a determined expression coming
into his eyes. "It is those infernal Mormons! When we made the locations
in Tintic, there was not a stake driven in the District, but now word
has been given out by Father Brigham to his followers that as it is
impossible to stop the entry of Gentiles into Utah for the purpose of
mining, the Latter-Day Saints had best claim all the mines they can
under prior locations and get these properties for themselves, as far
as possible. Consequently, a Mormon company has been started, who have
put in a claim of prior location to a portion of one of our mines,
without any more right to it than I have to this restaurant. And what do
you think the beggars call themselves? Why, Zion's Co-operative Mining
Company." Here he laughs a little bitterly and continues: "It was Zion's
Co-operative Commercial Institutions, and now it is Zion's Co-operative
Mining Companies. Those fellows drag in the Lord to help them in every
iniquitous scheme for despoiling the Gentile."

"All the same," replies the lawyer, "if you wish to make the sale of
your property to the English company that I represent, you had better
compromise the matter with them. I sharn't permit my clients to buy a
lawsuit."

"Compromise? Never!" answers the other impulsively. Then he goes on more
contemplatively: "And yet I wish to make the sale more than ever. You
see, the price we name for the property is an honest one. It is worth
every dollar of the five hundred thousand we ask for it."

"Then, why not work it yourself?" asks the lawyer.

"Simply because I have got tired of living the life of a
barbarian--surrounded by barbarians. It was well enough to spend four
years of early manhood in camps and battles, three others in building a
big railroad, and three more in the excitement of mining, away from the
_convenances_ and graces of life that only come with the presence of
refined women; but now I am tired of it, more so than ever since I have
seen that young lady down-stairs."

"Ah! still going back to Miss Travenion?" laughs the lawyer.

"You know her name then?" cries the captain, suddenly.

"Yes," says the other. "I happened to be impatient for your coming. The
evening was sultry. I walked out of the room, looked down the stairs and
saw your act of gallantry."

"Ah, since you know her name, you must know her!"

"Quite well; I am her trustee."

"Her trustee!" cries Harry Lawrence impulsively. "Her guardian? You will
introduce me to her? This is luck," and before the old gentleman can
interrupt him, the Westerner has seized his hand and given it a squeeze
which he remembers for some five minutes.

"I said her trustee; not her guardian," answers the lawyer cautiously.
"If, as your manner rather indicates, you have designs upon the young
lady's heart, you had better get a reply from her father."

"Her father is living then?"

"Certainly. Last January you could have seen him any afternoon in the
windows of the Unity Club looking at the ladies promenading on the
Avenue, just as he used to do when he lived here, and was a man about
town, and club _habitue_ and heavy swell. Ralph Travenion has gone West
again, however, but I have not heard of his death."

"Then for what reason does his daughter need a trustee?"

"Well, if you will listen to me and smoke your cigar in silence," says
Southmead, for they have arrived at that stage of the meal. "Erma
Lucille Travenion----"

"Erma--Lucille--Travenion!" mutters the young man, turning the words
over very tenderly as if they were sweet morsels on his tongue.
"Erma--Lucille--Travenion,--what a beautiful name."

"Hang it, don't interrupt me and don't look romantic," laughs the
lawyer.

But here a soft-treading waiter knocks upon the door and says: "Mr.
Ferdinand Rives Chauncey would like to see you half a minute, Mr.
Southmead."

And with the words, the young gentleman announced, a dapper boy of about
nineteen, faultlessly clad in the evening dress of that period, enters
hastily and says: "My dear Mr. Southmead, Mrs. Livingston has
commissioned me to ask you if you won't come down and join her for a few
moments. Oh, I beg pardon--" He pauses and gives a look expectant of
introduction towards Harry Lawrence. The lawyer, following his glance,
presents the two young men, and after acknowledging it, Chauncey
proceeds glibly, "Awful sorry to have interrupted you."

"Won't you sit down and have a glass of wine and a cigar?" says
Southmead hospitably.

"Yes, just one glass and one cigar--a baby cigar--they remind me of
cigarettes. I have not more than a moment to deliver my message. You
see, Mrs. Ogden Livingston has just come back from Newport, and to-night
gave a little theatre party: Daly's 'Divorce,' Clara Morris, Fanny
Davenport, Louis James and James Lewis, etc. Have you seen Lewis's
Templeton Jitt? It is immense. That muff, Oliver, actually giggled,"
babbles this youth, commonly called by his intimates Ferdie.

"So, Mr. Oliver Livingston laughed? It must have been very funny,"
remarks Whitehouse affably.

"Didn't he, when Jitt, the lawyer, got his ears boxed instead of the
husband he was suing for divorce. You want to see that play, Southmead;
it might give you points in your next application for alimony."

"I am not a divorce lawyer," cries the attorney rather savagely.

"Oh, no telling what might happen in your swell clientele, some day,"
giggles Ferdie. "But Ollie was scandalized at the placing of a minister
on the stage--an Episcopal minister, too."

"Does he expect to use an Episcopal minister soon?" asks the lawyer,
suggestively.

"Not very soon, judging by the young lady," grins Ferdie. "The only time
Miss Dividends----"

"What the dickens do you call Miss Travenion Miss Dividends for?"
interrupts Whitehouse testily.

"You ought to know best; you're her trustee," returns the youth.
"Besides, every one called her that at Newport this season, especially
the other girls, she is so stunning and they envied her so. Lots of
money, lots of beaux and more of beauty. If she didn't have a level
head, it would be turned."

"Yes, she has got a brain like her father. Besides, Mrs. Livingston
keeps a very sharp eye on her," remarks Southmead.

"Don't she though?" chimes in Mr. Chauncey. "Look at to-night. The widow
invited your humble servant to take care of the Amory girl, so that
Ollie could have full swing with Miss Dividends--I mean Erma. We are all
having supper in the Chinese-room. Mrs. Livingston wishes to see you for
a moment on business; Miss Travenion on more important business. They
chanced to mention it, and knowing your habits, I thought it very
probable you were at supper here. I told them I could find you if you
were in the building. I roamed through the _cafe_ and inquired of
Rimmer, and he suggested you were up-stairs. The head waiter in the
restaurant corroborated him. It won't keep you long. Miss Travenion and
Mrs. Livingston wish to see you particularly. They are very busy."

"Busy!" cries the lawyer. "What have those two birds of Paradise to do
with business?"

"They are packing. They wish to know if you can possibly call on them
to-morrow afternoon."

"To-morrow afternoon, Captain Lawrence's business compels my
attention."

"Ah, then, to-morrow evening."

"Unfortunately I have promised to deliver an address at the Bar
Association Dinner."

"Very well, to-morrow morning."

"Still this young gentleman's business," remarks Mr. Southmead. "It is
important and immediate."

"Oh, very well, then," returns Ferdie; "suppose you come down to our
supper party _now_! I know what Mrs. Livingston wants to say to you,
won't take over three minutes, and Miss Travenion won't occupy you five.
Come down and join us? We are pretty well finished."

"But this young gentleman," remarks Whitehouse, smiling at Lawrence.

"Oh, bring Captain Lawrence down with you," and before Southmead can
reply to this request, which is given in an off-hand, snappy kind of a
way, Ferdie finds his hand grasped warmly in a set of bronzed maniples
and Harry Storey Lawrence looking into his eyes with a face full of
gratitude, and saying to him, "Certainly! I will run down with you with
the greatest pleasure."

"But--" interjects Southmead.

"Oh, it will not inconvenience me in the slightest. It will be rather a
pleasure," cries the Westerner.

And before he can urge any further objection to Mr. Ferdinand Chauncey's
proposed move, the two younger men have left the room and are walking
down-stairs, and the lawyer has nothing to do but to follow after them
as rapidly as possible.

The door of the Chinese-room is opened for Mr. Chauncey. As he looks in
one thought strikes the mind of the mining man, and that is,--If you
would thoroughly appreciate the beauty of women, be without their
society for a few months. Then you will know why men rave about them,
why men die for them.

No prettier sight has ever come before the eyes of this young
Westerner,--who has still the fire of youth in his veins, but whose life
has kept him away from nearly all such scenes as this,--than this one he
gazes on with beaming eyes, flushed face, a slight trembling of his
stalwart limbs. This room, made bright by Chinese decorations and
Oriental color, illuminated by the soft wax lights of the supper table,
and made radiant by the presence of lovely women--one of whom--the one
his eyes seek--the like of which he has never seen before--Erma
Travenion.




CHAPTER II.

MISS EAST.


The girl stands in an easy, but vivacious, attitude. She has just been
telling some story, and growing excited, has got to acting it, to the
derangement but beauty of her toilet, as a little bonnet made all of
<DW29>s has fallen, and hanging by two light blue ribbons, adorns her
white neck instead of her fair hair, which, disordered by her
enthusiasm, has become wavy, floating and gold in the light, and red
bronze in the shadow.

The party having left the supper table with its fruit, flowers, crystal,
silverware and decorated china, are grouped about, looking at her.

The chaperon, Mrs. Livingston, standing near the door, is a widow and
forty-five, though still comely to look upon, and the girl behind her is
interesting in her own peculiar style, being piquant and pretty. Though
it is late in September the weather is still quite warm, and dressed in
the light summer costumes of 1871, which gave as charming glimpses of
white necks and dazzling arms as those of to-day, either lady would
attract the eyes of men: but the glorious beauty of Erma Travenion still
holds the Westerner's gaze.

Eyes draw eyes, and the young lady returns his glance for a second.

Then Mrs. Livingston speaks: "Why, Chauncey," she says, "I thought you
were going to bring Mr. Southmead."

"And I have brought his client," laughs Ferdie. "Mr. Southmead will be
here in a minute. He was engaged with Captain Lawrence and could not
leave him. So I took the liberty and persuaded Captain Lawrence to join
us also. But permit me," and he presents his companion in due form to
the hostess of the evening.

While Harry is making his bow, Mr. Southmead enters.

"Ah, Chauncey," he says laughingly, "you have made the introduction, I
see. But still, Mrs. Livingston, I think I can give you some information
about Captain Lawrence which Ferdinand does not possess. He is a _rara
avis_. He has not opened his mouth to a beautiful woman for eight
months."

"Excuse me," interposes Lawrence gallantly. "That was before I had
spoken to Mrs. Livingston."

This happy shot makes the widow his friend at once. She says: "Not
spoken to a beautiful woman for eight months! Surely there could be no
beautiful women about," and her eyes emphasize her words as she looks
with admiration on the athletic symmetry the young Western man displays
under his broadcloth evening dress.

"Not spoken to a beautiful woman for eight months!" This is an
astonished echo from the two young ladies.

"Yes," replies Southmead laughing. "He has been in southern Utah. He
only stopped over night in Salt Lake City on his trip to New York; he
comes from the wilds of the Rocky Mountains."

"The Rocky Mountains?" cries Erma, whose eyes seem to take sudden
interest at the locality mentioned.

A moment after, Mrs. Livingston hastily presents the Western engineer.
"Miss Amory--Miss Travenion: Captain Lawrence."

"Not heard the voice of beauty for eight months? That is severe for a
military man, Captain Lawrence," laughs Miss Amory, her eyes growing
bright, for she is in the habit of going to West Point, to graduating
exercises, and loving cadets and brass buttons generally and awfully.

"I was once Captain of an Iowa battery," answers Harry; "for some years
after that I was a civil engineer on the Union Pacific Railway, and for
the last three I have been a mining engineer in Utah."

"On the Union Pacific Railway," says Miss Travenion, her eyes growing
more interested. "Then perhaps you know my father. Won't you sit beside
me? I should like to ask you a few questions. But let me present Mr.
Oliver Ogden Livingston, Captain Lawrence." She introduces in the easy
manner of one accustomed to society the Westerner to a gentleman who has
arisen from beside her.

This being remarks, "Awh! delighted," with a slight English affectation
of manner, which in 1871 was very uncommon in America, and reseats
himself beside Miss Travenion.

"There is another chair on my other hand," says the young lady,
indicating the article in question, and looking rather sneeringly at Mr.
Oliver for his by no means civil performance.

Consequently, a moment after the young man finds himself beside Miss
Travenion, though Mr. Livingston has destroyed a _tete-a-tete_ by
sitting upon the other hand of the beauty.

Ferdie has grouped himself with Miss Amory and is entering into some
society small talk or gossip that apparently interests her greatly, as
she gives out every now and then excited giggles and exclamations at
the young man's flippant sentences.

Mrs. Livingston is occupied with Mr. Southmead, who has just said: "You
brought Louise with you from Newport?"

"Of course," answers the widow. "We have left there for the season."
Then noticing that the gentleman's glance is wandering about the room,
she continues: "You need not hope to find Louise here. She is only
sixteen--too young for theatre parties. The child is in bed and asleep."
A moment after their voices are lowered, apparently discussing some
business matter.

During this, Erma Travenion appears to be considering some proposition
in her mind. This gives Lawrence a chance to contemplate her more
minutely than when he picked up her fan on the staircase or as he
entered the room. He repeats the inspection, with the same decision
intensified: she is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen; but,
dominating even her beauty, is that peculiar and radiant thing we call
the charm of manner.

Seated in a languid, careless, dreamy way, as if her thoughts were far
from this brilliant supper-room, the unstudied pose of her attitude,
gives additional femininity to her graceful figure; for, when
self-conscious, Miss Travenion has an appearance of coldness, even
_hauteur_; but there is none of this now.

Her well-proportioned head, supported by a neck of enchanting whiteness,
is lighted by two eyes which would be sapphires, were they not made
dazzling by the soul that shines through them, reflecting each emotion
of her vivacious yet brilliant mind. Her forehead has that peculiar
breadth, which denotes that intellect would always dominate passion,
were it not for her lips that indicate when she loves, she will love
with her whole heart. Her figure, betwixt girlhood and womanhood,
retains the graces of one and the contours of the other. The dress she
wears brings all this out with wonderful distinctness, for it is jet
black, even to its laces,--a color which segregates her from the more
brilliant decorations of the room, outlining her exquisite arms,
shoulders and bust, in a way that would make her seem a statue of ebony
and ivory, were it not for the delicate pink of her lips and nostrils as
she softly breathes, the slight compression of her brows, and the
nervous tapping of her little foot that just shows itself in dainty boot
beneath the laces of her robe. These indicate that youthful and
enthusiastic life will in a moment make this dreaming figure a vivacious
woman.

As Lawrence thinks this, action comes to her. She says impulsively: "You
must let me thank you again for the attention you showed me on the
stairway."

"What attention?" asks Mr. Oliver Livingston, waking up also.

"Something you were too occupied with yourself to notice," smiles the
young lady. "I dropped my fan as we entered this evening, and this
gentleman, though he did not know me, was kind enough to pick it up.
But," she continues suddenly, "Captain Lawrence, you can do me a much
greater favor."

"Indeed! How?" is Harry's eager answer.

"You say that you have been an engineer upon the Union Pacific Railway.
What portion of it?"

"From Green River to Ogden, though I was employed as assistant at one
time at Cheyenne."

"From Green River to Ogden! Then you must have met my father, Ralph
Harriman Travenion."

"No, I never had that pleasure," answers the young man, after a moment's
consideration.

"But you must have!" cries the girl impulsively. "He was one of the
largest contractors on that portion of the road."

"Your father--a railroad contractor?" answers Harry, opening his eyes,
which appear to the young lady very large, earnest, and flashing
compared to the rather effeminate ones of Mr. Livingston.

"Not in New York," laughs Ollie, waving his white hands. "When here, Mr.
Travenion is one of our leading fashionables. Did you see any one dance
more gracefully than your father did last winter, Miss Erma?--though I
believe he did have something to do with the building of the railway out
there."

"I don't see how that was possible," suggests Lawrence. "I and my
assistants figured all the cross-sectionings of that portion of the
work, and I know that none were accredited to Ralph Travenion. Our
largest contractors were Little & Co., Tranyon & Co., Amos Jennings,
George H. Smith, and Brigham Young--nearly all Mormons."

"You are sure?" says the young lady, knitting her brows as if in
thought.

"Certainly!"

"This is very curious. Why, I have even had letters from him on Union
Pacific paper."

"Perhaps he was a silent partner in one of the companies," suggests
Lawrence, who is very much astonished to find a girl in New York's most
exclusive set, as Miss Travenion evidently is, connected so intimately
with one of the builders of a railway in the Far West.

"Perhaps you are right," says the young lady contemplatively. "However,
I will know all about it myself in a few weeks."

"He is coming to visit you, I presume?"

"No, but I am going to take a trip to California with Mrs. Livingston
and her party," remarks Erma, "and _en route_ I expect to meet him--my
dear father, whom I haven't seen for half a year!" and the girl's eyes
light up with sudden tenderness and pleasure. "_Apropos_ of the
trip--excuse me." Here she rises suddenly and passes to the family
law