 where to find Zenobia. As for Priscilla, she has closer
friends than myself, through whom, if they see fit, you can gain access to her.«
    »In that case,« returned the Professor, ceremoniously raising his hat, »good
morning to you.«
    He took his departure, and was soon out of sight among the windings of the
wood-path. But, after a little reflection, I could not help regretting that I
had so peremptorily broken off the interview, while the stranger seemed inclined
to continue it. His evident knowledge of matters, affecting my three friends,
might have led to disclosures, or inferences, that would perhaps have been
serviceable. I was particularly struck with the fact, that, ever since the
appearance of Priscilla, it had been the tendency of events to suggest and
establish a connection between Zenobia and her. She had come, in the first
instance, as if with the sole purpose of claiming Zenobia's protection. Old
Moodie's visit, it appeared, was chiefly to ascertain whether this object had
been accomplished. And here, to-day, was the questionable Professor, linking one
with the other in his inquiries, and seeking communication with both.
    Meanwhile, my inclination for a ramble having been baulked, I lingered in
the vicinity of the farm, with perhaps a vague idea that some new event would
grow out of Westervelt's proposed interview with Zenobia. My own part, in these
transactions, was singularly subordinate. It resembled that of the Chorus in a
classic play, which seems to be set aloof from the possibility of personal
concernment, and bestows the whole measure of its hope or fear, its exultation
or sorrow, on the fortunes of others, between whom and itself this sympathy is
the only bond. Destiny, it may be - the most skilful of stage-managers - seldom
chooses to arrange its scenes, and carry forward its drama, without securing the
presence of at least one calm observer. It is his office to give applause, when
due, and sometimes an inevitable tear, to detect the final fitness of incident
to character, and distil, in his long-brooding thought, the whole morality of
the performance.
    Not to be out of the way, in case there were need of me in my vocation, and,
at the same time, to avoid thrusting myself where neither Destiny nor mortals
might desire my presence, I remained pretty near the verge of the woodlands. My
position was off the track of Zenobia's customary walk, yet not so remote but
that a recognized occasion
