ou go away. You may as well have it now. To-morrow we
shall be both in a hurry. Come here."

He opened the case and showed her a small round portrait painted on
ivory. It was the head of a girl of eighteen, exquisitely fair, with
sweet, modest-looking eyes. "Your mother," he said briefly.

Anna almost held her breath. She had never seen a picture of her mother
before, and had very seldom heard her mentioned.

"How lovely!" she exclaimed. "May I really have it to keep?"

"I had it copied for you from the original," said Mr Forrest.

"Oh, father, thank you so much," said Anna earnestly. "I do so love to
have it."

Mr Forrest turned away suddenly, and walked to the window. He was
silent for some minutes, and Anna stood with the case in her hand, not
daring to speak to him. She had an instinct that it was a painful
subject.

"Well," he said at last, "I need not tell you to take care of it. When
I come back you'll be nearly as old as she was when that was painted. I
can't hope more than that you may be half as good and beautiful."

Anna gazed earnestly at the portrait. There were some words in tiny
letters beneath it: "Priscilla Goodwin," she read, "aged eighteen."

Priscilla! A soft, gentle sort of name, which seemed to suit the face.

If father wanted me to look like this, she thought to herself, he
shouldn't have called me "Anna." How could any one named Anna grow so
pretty!

"Why was I named Anna?" she asked.

"It was your mother's wish," replied Mr Forrest. "I believe it was her
mother's name."

"Is my grandmother alive?" said Anna.

"No; she died years before I ever saw your mother. Your grandfather,
old Mr Goodwin, is living still--at Dornton."

"At Dornton!" exclaimed Anna in extreme surprise. "Then why don't I go
to stay with him while you're away, instead of at Waverley?"

"Because," said Mr Forrest, turning from the window to face his
daughter, "it has been otherwise arranged."

Anna knew that tone of her father's well; it meant that she had asked an
undesirable question. She was silent, but her eager face showed that
she longed to hear more.

"Your grandfather and I have not been very good friends," said Mr
Forrest at length, "and have not met for a good many years--but you're
too young to understand all that. He lives in a very quiet sort of way.
Once, if he had chosen, he might have risen to a different position.
But he didn't choose, and he remains what he has been for