choking sob. "Why should all be
left--except him?"

"The workings of Providence are full of mystery," sighed the widow.
"Dear Edward! How handsome he looked that day he brought me home. And
he was a noble-looking man to the last. Not more than two spoonfuls of
pekoe, Pauline. You ought to know how I like it by this time."

This to the handmaiden, who was making tea at the gipsy table in front
of the fire--the table at which Vixen and Rorie had drunk tea so
merrily on that young man's birthday.

After tea mother and daughter went the round of the house. How
familiar, how dear, how strange, how sad all things looked! The
faithful servants had done their duty. Everything was in its place. The
last room they entered was the Squire's study. Here were all his
favourite books. The "Sporting Magazine" from its commencement, in
crimson morocco. "Nimrod" and "The Druid," "Assheton Smith's Memoirs,"
and many others of the same class. Books on farming and farriery, on
dogs and guns. Here were the Squire's guns and whips, a motley
collection, all neatly arranged by his own hands. The servants had done
nothing but keep them free from dust. There, by the low and cosy
fireplace, with its tiled hearth, stood the capacious crimson morocco
chair, in which the master of the Abbey House had been wont to sit when
he held audience with his kennel-huntsman, or gamekeeper, his
farm-bailiff, or stud-groom.

"Mamma, I should like you to lock the door of this room and keep the
key, so that no one may ever come here," said Vixen.

"My dear, that is just the way to prolong your grief; but I will do it
if you like."

"Do, dear mamma. Or, if you will let me keep the key, I will come in
and dust the room every day. It would be a pleasure for me, a mournful
one, perhaps, but still a pleasure."

Mrs. Tempest made no objection, and, when they left the room, Vixen
locked the door and put the key in her pocket.

Christmas was close at hand. The saddest time for such a home-coming,
Vixen thought. The gardeners brought in their barrows of holly, and
fir, and laurel; but Vixen would take no part in the decoration of hall
and corridors, staircase and gallery--she who in former years had been
so active in the labour. The humble inhabitants of the village rejoiced
in the return of the family at the great house, and Vixen was pleased
to see the kind faces again, the old men and women, the rosy-cheeked
children, and careworn mothers, withered and wrinkled