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Judge, then, with what feelings she overheard, about half an hour after the plan to disturb her peace had been formed, the following conversation between Mears and his companion, carried on in low tones and in a confidential manner. She was sitting close to one side of the folding-doors that communicated between the parlours, and they were in the adjoining room, concealed from her by the half-partition, yet so close that every word they uttered was distinctly heard. Her attention was first arrested by hearing one of them say–

“If she knew Fisher as well as I do.”

To which the other responded–

“Yes; or as well as I do. But, poor girl! it isn’t expected that she is to know every thing about young men who visit her. It is better that she should not.”

“Still, I am rather surprised that common report should not have given her more information about Fisher than she seems to possess.”

“So am I. But she’ll know him better one of these days.”

“I’ll warrant you that! Perhaps to her sorrow; though I hope things will turn out differently from what they now promise. Don’t you think he is pretty well done with his wild oats?”

“Possibly. But time will tell.”

“Yes, time proves all things.”

Some one joining the young men at this point of their conversation, the subject was changed. Greatly amused at what they had done, they little thought how sad the effects of their unguarded words would be.

Five minutes afterwards, the young man named Mears, curious to see how Clara had been affected by what he knew she must have heard, moved to another part of the room, in order to observe her without attracting her attention. But she had left the place where she was sitting. His eye ranged around the room, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“I’m afraid we’ve hurt Clara more than we intended,” he said, rejoining his friend. “She has vanished.”

“Ah! Where’s Fisher?”

“He’s at the other end of the room.”

“We didn’t say any thing against the young man.”

“Not in particular. We made no specifications. There was nothing that she could take hold of.”

“No, of course not. But I wonder what is going to be the upshot of the matter?”

“Nothing very serious, I apprehend.”

“No. I suppose she will go home and cry her eyes half out, and then conclude that, whatever Fisher may have been, he’s perfection now. It’s a first-rate joke, isn’t it?”

Clara Grant had not only left the parlours, but soon after quietly left the house, and alone returned to her home. When her lover, shortly afterwards, searched through the rooms for her, she was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is Clara?” he asked of one and another. The answer was–

“I saw her here a moment since.”

But it was soon very apparent that she was nowhere in the rooms now. Fisher moved about uneasy for half an hour. Still, not seeing her, he became anxious lest a sudden illness had caused her to retire from the company. More particular inquiries were made of the lady who had given the entertainment. She immediately ascertained for him that Clara was not in the house. One of the servants reported that a lady had gone away alone half an hour before. Fisher did not remain a single moment after receiving this intelligence, but went direct to the house of Clara’s aunt, with whom she lived, and there ascertained that she had come home and retired to her room without seeing any of the family.

His inquiry whether she were ill, the servant could not answer.

“Have you seen anything of Clara yet?” asked the friend of Mears, with a smile, as they met about an hour after they had disturbed the peace of a trusting, innocent-minded girl, “just for the fun of it.”

“I have not,” replied Mears.

“Where’s Fisher?”

“He is gone also.”

“Ah, indeed! I’m sorry the matter was taken so seriously by the young lady. It was only a joke.”