look on his cheek, and a
glaze upon his eye. Joyce says that his cheeks are no brighter than
his mother's were, but I know better. Folks in health don't have those
brilliant colors."

"Did you ever see Lady Isabel?" she asked, in a low tone.

"Not I," returned Afy; "I should have thought it demeaning. One does
not care to be brought into contact with that sort of misdoing lot, you
know, Madame Vine."

"There as another one, a little boy--Archibald, I think, his name was.
Is he well?"

"Oh, the troublesome youngster! He is as sturdy as a Turk. No fear of
his going into consumption. He is the very image of Mr. Carlyle, is
that child. I say though, madame," continued Afy, changing the subject
unceremoniously, "if you were stopping at West Lynne, perhaps you heard
some wicked mischief-making stories concerning me?"

"I believe I did hear your name mentioned. I cannot charge my memory now
with the particulars."

"My father was murdered--you must have heard of that?"

"Yes, I recollect so far."

"He was murdered by a chap called Richard Hare, who decamped instanter.
Perhaps you know the Hares also? Well, directly after the funeral I left
West Lynne; I could not bear the place, and I stopped away. And what
do you suppose they said of me? That I had gone after Richard Hare. Not
that I knew they were saying it, or I should pretty soon have been back
and given them the length of my tongue. But now I just ask you, as a
lady, Madame Vine, whether a more infamous accusation was ever pitched
upon?"

"And you had not gone after him?"

"No; that I swear," passionately returned Afy. "Make myself a companion
of my father's murderer! If Mr. Calcraft, the hangman, finished off a
few of those West Lynne scandalmongers, it might be a warning to the
others. I said so to Mr. Carlyle.

"To Mr. Carlyle?" repeated Lady Isabel, hardly conscious that she did
repeat it.

"He laughed, I remember, and said that would not stop the scandal. The
only one who did not misjudge me was himself; he did not believe that I
was with Richard Hare, but he was ever noble-judging was Mr. Carlyle."

"I suppose you were in a situation?"

Afy coughed.

"To be sure. More than one. I lived as companion with an old lady, who
so valued me that she left me a handsome legacy in her will. I lived two
years with the Countess of Mount Severn."

"With the Countess of Mount Severn!" echoed Lady Isabel, surprised into
the remark. "Why, she--she--was related t