ms of your infancy?'

'Then neither my mother nor my grandmother ever wrote to you about her?'

'I do remember that it struck me that immunity from governesses was a
compensation for the lack of daughters.'

'Can you tell me no details,' said Mark anxiously. 'Have you no
letters? It was about the time when Blanche was born, when we were
living at Raxley.'

'I am sorry to say that our roving life prevented my keeping old
letters. I have often regretted it. Let me see, there was one who
boxed May's ears.'

'That was long after. I think it was that woman's barbarity that made
my father marry again, and a very good thing that was. It was wretched
before. Miss Headworth was in my own mother's time.'

'I begin to remember something happening that your mother seemed unable
to write about, and your grandmother said that she had been greatly
upset by "that miserable affair," but I was never exactly told what it
had been.'

'Miss Headworth came when I was four or five years old. Edda, as we
used to call her in May's language, was the first person who gave me a
sense of beauty. She had dark eyes and a lovely complexion. I
remember in after times being silenced for saying, "not so pretty as my
Edda." I was extremely fond of her, enough to have my small jealousy
excited when my uncle joined us in our walks, and monopolised her,
turning May and me over to play with his dog!'

'But, Mark, Mr. Egremont is some years older than your father. He
could not have been a young man at that time.'

'So much the worse. Most likely he seemed to her quite paternal. The
next thing I recollect was our being in the Isle of Wight, we two
children, with Miss Headworth and the German nurse, and our being told
of our new sister. Uncle Alwyn and his yacht were there, and we went
on board once or twice. Then matters became confused with me, I
recollect a confusion, papa and grandmamma suddenly arriving, everybody
seeming to us to have become very cross, our dear Miss Headworth
nowhere to be found, our attendants being changed, and our being
forbidden to speak of her again. I certainly never thought of the
matter till a month ago. You know my uncle's eyes have been much
affected by his illness, and he has made a good deal of use of me. He
has got a valet, a fellow of no particular country, more Savoyard than
anything else, I fancy. He is a legacy, like other evils, from the old
General, and seems a sort of necessity to my uncle'