second mother. When people paid distant visits in the
sixteenth century, it was not for a week's stay, but for half a year, or
at least a quarter. During many years it had been the custom that
visits of this length should be exchanged between Selwick Hall and the
Hill House at Minster Lovel alternately, at the close of every two
years. But Edith, who was Aunt Joyce's special favourite, had paid now
and then a visit between-times; and when, as years and infirmities
increased, the meetings were obliged to cease for the elders, Edith's
yearly stay of three or four months with the old and lonely cousin had
become an institution instead of them. Her feeling, therefore, was much
like that of a daughter of the house introducing her relatives to her
own home; for Lady Louvaine was the only other of the party to whom the
Hill House had been familiar in old times.

Its owner, the once active and energetic old lady, now confined to her
couch by partial paralysis, had been called Aunt Joyce by the Louvaines
of the second generation ever since their remembrance lasted. To the
younger ones, however, she was a stranger; and they watched with curious
eyes their Aunt Edith's affectionate greeting of the old servant
Rebecca, who had guarded and amused her as a baby, and loved her as a
girl. Rebecca, on her part, was equally glad to see her.

"Run you in, Mrs Edith, my dear," said she; "you'll find the mistress
in the Credence Chamber. Eh, she has wearied for you!--Good evening,
Madam, and I'm fain to see your Ladyship again. Would you please to
allow of my help in 'lighting?"

While Rebecca and Hans assisted her mother to descend, Edith ran into
the house with as light and fleet a step as if she were fourteen instead
of forty, and entered a large, low chamber, hung with dark leather
hangings, stamped in gold, where a bright lamp burned on a little table,
and on a low couch beside it lay an old lady, covered over with a fur
coverlet. She had a pleasant, kindly old face, with fresh rose-colour
in her cheeks, and snow-white hair; and her face lighted up when she saw
Edith, like a candle set in a dark window. Edith ran to her, and cast
her arms about her, and she said, "My Edith, mine own dear child!" as
tenderly as if she had been her own mother.

Lady Louvaine followed her daughter, leaning on Hans and Rebecca, who
took her up to the couch, and set her down in a large chair furnished
with soft cushions, which stood close besid