d cool with blinds, had a certain
homely grace about the faded furniture. The drawings on the walls were
good, the work quaint and tasteful. There was a grand vase of
foxgloves before the empty grate, and some Marshal Nial roses in a
glass on the table. The old lady herself--with alert black eyes and a
sweet expression--rose from her chair in the window to receive her
guest.

Lady Kirkaldy felt reassured as to the refinement of the surroundings,
and liked the gentle but self-possessed tones of the old lady. She
noticed the foxgloves.

'Yes,' said Miss Headworth, 'they are the fruits of yesterday's
expedition. My two children, as I call them, brought them home in
triumph. I cannot tell you what pleasure Lord Kirkaldy's kindness gave
them--and many more.'

'I am glad,' said the lady, while she said to herself, 'now for it,'
and sat forward. 'It struck me,' she said, 'on hearing your name that
you might be related to--to a young lady who lived a good while ago in
the family of my sister, Lady Adelaide Egremont.'

A strange look came into Miss Headworth's eyes, her lips trembled, she
clutched tightly the arm of her chair, but then cast a puzzled glance
at her visitor.

'Perhaps if you heard of me then,' said the latter, 'it was as Lady
Margaret Kerr.'

'Yes,' said Miss Headworth, then pausing, she collected herself and
said in an anxious voice, 'Do I understand that your ladyship is come
to inquire for my niece, being aware of the circumstances.'

'I only became aware of them yesterday,' said Lady Kirkaldy. 'I was in
Turkey at the time, and no particulars were given to me; but my nephew,
Mark Egremont, your niece's old pupil, came to consult us, having just
discovered among his uncle's papers evidence of the marriage, of which
of course he had been ignorant.'

'Then,' exclaimed Miss Headworth, holding her hands tightly clasped,
'Shall I really see justice done at last to my poor child?'

'It is young Mark's most earnest wish and his father--'Lady Kirkaldy
hesitated for a word, and Miss Headworth put in:

'His father! Why would he never even acknowledge either Alice's
letters or mine? We wrote several times both to him and Lady Adelaide,
and never received any reply, except one short one, desiring he might
not be troubled on such a subject. It was cruel! Alice said it was not
in his writing. She had done very wrong, and the family might well be
offended, but a poor child like her, just eighteen, mig