The boat was getting up her steam, and yet he had not made his appearance.
Just as she asked this question it was answered by his rapid approach.
He came up, traveling-bag in hand, happy, smiling, radiant.
"Mrs. Grey, I have been looking for you all over the boat. I feared that I had missed you," he said, gayly, holding out his hand.
"I have been waiting for you here," she answered, with a smile.
"I am glad to find you at last. But will you not come into the cabin? The deck is not a pleasant place while the boat is at the wharf," he said, as he offered her his arm.
She thanked him with a smile, took his arm and let him lead her into the saloon.
It was at that moment empty of other visitors. And those two were _tête-à-tête_.
He gave her a pleasant seat, placed himself beside her, and then and there he told her of his betrothal to Emma Cavendish.
Of course she already knew all about it. But he was not aware of her knowledge. And his motive in announcing the intelligence to her was evident even to Mary Grey's vanity-blinded mind. It was to set their own relations at once upon a true basis, and prevent all misunderstanding and all false hopes growing out of their long-lost love.
Although she had known all this so well before he spoke of it, yet it required all her powers of self-control and duplicity to listen quietly while he spoke of her rival and to affect a sympathy with his happiness.
Yet she did this so well that he was thoroughly deceived.
"It was all a foolish mistake our fancying we loved each other so much, was it not, Alden, dear?" she inquired, with an arch smile.
"I think so," he answered, quite frankly.
"I am glad to hear you admit that, for now we can understand each other and be good friends, and nothing more," she added, sweetly.
"Yes, good friends always, Mary," he agreed.
He was so happy in his blessed love for Emma Cavendish that he felt kindly toward all the world, and especially toward this "friendless young widow," as he called her.
"But you know, Alden, that it is quite common for young men of earnest souls like yours to take a liking to women older than themselves."
"Not in years, perhaps, but oh, ever so much in suffering, and in the bitter knowledge of the world it brings! And thus, for this reason, I was no proper wife for a happy young man like you. No young man should ever marry a widow, and no young girl should ever marry a widower. Our fancied love for each other was a mistake, dear Alden, and I am very glad it was discovered before it was rendered irremediable."