A few blocks, and she had completely reassured herself.

There was no danger of her discovery.None.Almost every one she knew was out of town; she herself was known to be upon the high seas bound for Europe; Matilda's gown and veil were a most unsuspicious disguise; and William, her paragon of a William, so rigidly upright on the seat before her--William's statuesque, unapproachable figure diffused about her a sense of absolute security.

She relaxed, sank back into the upholstery of the carriage, and began fully to enjoy the rare May night.
But a surprise was lying in wait for her as she came into a comparatively secluded drive of Central Park.

In itself the surprise was the most trifling of events--so slight a matter as a person twisting his vertebrae some hundred-odd degrees, and silently smiling.
But that person was William! For a moment she gasped with amazed indignation.

To think of William daring to smile at her! But quickly she recognized that William, of course, supposed her to be Matilda, and that the smile was no more than the friendly courtesy that would naturally pass between two fellow-servants.