woman looked at me with a startled
expression.

"Dear life, miss! I hope I haven't done
wrong to mention it. I never thought but
what you knew. Will you sit down a moment,
miss?"

"No, no, thank you. But tell me—-when
did they—-I mean how long——"

"How long they've been here?" said the
woman, helping out my unfinished sentence.
"Well, I'm not rightly sure, but it must be
going on nigh a week. My master, he seen young
Mr. Lee at Rotherwood's door last Thursday.
They're staying there, I take it."

I thanked her and hurried out of the shop.
As soon as I reached home, I shut myself into my
room, and, without removing my hat and cloak,
sat down to think. I should run the risk of
meeting them, unprepared, at any moment. I
knew too well that any idea of my uncle's
admitting them beneath his roof, was hopeless as
yet. But I did not think he would forbid me to
see my sister. Did he know of her being there?
I scarcely thought he could; he had so resolutely
set his face against all mention of her name
by any one whomsoever. It behoved me to consider
how I should act. Could I bear it? Could
I see him as my sister's husband? How would
they receive me if I went? I revolved all the
aspects of the question without coming to any
decision, when, on a sudden, my heart cried out:
"She is your sister, she is the motherless
companion of your infancy, she is the only living
being of your blood you have to cling to.
Go to her!" I listened to my heart's voice,
and arose, and went forth upon the urging of
that strong impulse. I hastened out at the
iron gates, and took my way along the street
to the house the woman had mentioned. Mr.
Rotherwood's offices were on the ground floor,
and (his dwelling-house being in another part
of the town) the upper stories had been hitherto
disused. But now, as I glanced at the windows,
I saw white curtains there, and signs of habitation.
I would not stop for a moment, nor
slacken in my pace, lest I should turn coward
and go back without fulfilling my purpose. I
reached the private door, almost breathless with
my speed, and, having knocked, was admitted
by a little country servant, who stared at me
with all her round eyes.

"Is-—your mistress—-within?"

Only at the moment of asking the question,
did I remember that I must now speak of Anna
as Mrs. Horace Lee. With strange unaccountable
inconsistency, I, who was coming there to
heal the past, and offer reconciliation, could not
make that smaller effort of calling my sister by
his name!

"Yes," said the girl, with her wondering
eyes still fixed upon my face: " she is at
home."

"I know her. I am a friend. Let me go
up."

I pushed her aside, and ran up the staircase,
and into the sitting-room which faced it, and
there—-nursing a tiny infant at her breast, and
singing softly to it, in the old sweet voice—-sat
my sister Anna.

'' Margaret!"

She rose and faced me. The deep red blood
rushed over her face and neck, and then, receding,
left her deadly pale.

"O Anna! I did not know this. You are
a mother, Anna! O Anna, Anna! let me kiss
your child."

With sobs, and half-uttered words, and passionate
embraces, we clung together, holding
the little baby between us. And so we wept,
and wept, until, thank God! the flowing tears
washed from my innermost soul, the last lingering
bitterness of anger.

When we grew calmer and could speak to
each other-—that was not for a long time—-Anna
asked me if Uncle Gough were coming, and if
he knew of my visit? But, in her quick way,
she read the answer in my face before I could
utter it, and drew back with the curved haughty
lip I knew so well.

"Ah, no. I see. He is still hard, and implacable,
and vindictive. Well, we must endure it.
That is all."

"Hush, hush, Anna! Do not speak so; I
cannot hear it. Tell me about yourself. How
old is your baby? What is its name?"

"Poor little thing! She is very wee and frail,
isn't she? Only two months old. We came
away from the north, as soon as I was able to
travel. She is called Lily."

I remembered Horace having once told me that
his mother's name had been Lilias. As I looked
more closely at my sister, and as her face
recovered itself after the strong emotion of our
meeting, I saw that she was thin and worn.
She was very lovely, with the rich dark curls
clustering round her forehead, and her lustrous
brown eyes that looked larger than ever, from
the thinness of her face; but her cheek was
very pale, and there were lines of care and
suffering about her mouth, and the mark on her
forehead, which told of the frequent contraction
of her handsome brows, had deepened.

"Little lily, poor small lily, little fair white
lily, you don't know me; do you? I am Aunt
Margaret, and you must be very good to me,
and love me very much."

I had taken the infant in my arms, and I hushed
it until it fell into a slumber, when Anna told
me to place it on a couch in the room that was
prepared for it with pillows and a light warm
shawl.

"Hark!" cried Anna, as I laid the sleeping
baby down; " that is his step. Here is Horace."

I have a confused remembrance of breathing
a hurried prayer for strength, while that footstep
mounted the stair; and then his hand was
on the lock and he stood before us. Anna
advanced to meet him, and put her hands upon
his shoulders; but his eye had lighted upon me,
where I stood trembling like some guilty creature.
Dashing down the papers he carried
in his hand, he put his wife aside, and with a
cry which I shall never forget, sprang across
the room and clasped me in his arms. It was