alive was to be withheld for a
fitter time, but he promised dutifully, and his aunt then took him in
with her.

The recognition of her claims was a less stunning shock to Alice
Egremont than to her aunt. Shielded by her illness, as well as by her
simplicity and ignorance, she had never been aware of her aunt's
attempted correspondence with the Egremonts, nor of their deafness to
appeals made on her behalf. Far less had it ever occurred to her that
the validity of her marriage could be denied, and the heinous error of
her elopement seemed to her quite sufficient to account for her having
been so entirely cast off by the family. The idea that as wife or
widow she had any claims on them, or that Ursula might have rights
above those of Mark, had not come into her mind, which, indeed, at the
moment was chiefly occupied by the doubt whether the milk was come in,
and by ordering in the best teacups, presented by the boarders.

Thus she was in the passage when Mark entered, and his exclamation
instantly was 'Oh, Edda, dear old Edda! You aren't a bit altered!' and
he put his head under her hat and kissed her, adding, as she seemed
rather startled, 'You are my aunt, you know; and where's my cousin?
You are Ursula?'

He advanced upon Nuttie, took her by the hand and kissed her forehead
before she was aware, but she flashed at him with her black eyes, and
looked stiff and defiant. She had no notion of kisses to herself,
still less to her pretty mother whom she protected with a half proud,
half jealous fondness. How could the man presume to call her by that
foolish name? However, that single effusion had exhausted Mark's
powers of cordiality, or else Nuttie's stiffness froze him. They were
all embarrassed, and had reason to be grateful to Lady Kirkaldy's
practised powers as a diplomate's wife. She made the most of Mrs.
Egremont's shy spasmodic inquiries, and Mark's jerks of information,
such as that they were all living at Bridgefield Egremont, now, that
his sister May was very like his new cousin, that Blanche was come out
and was very like his mother, etc. etc. Every one was more at ease
when Lady Kirkaldy carried the conversation off to yesterday's
entertainment, hoping no one had been overtired, and the like. Mrs.
Egremont lighted up a little and began telling some of the expressions
of delight she had heard, and in the midst, Nuttie, waking from her
trance of stiff displeasure, came plump in with 'Oh! and there's