g for the merry loving child; nor the aching pity
for the crushed blighted creature whom she had watched suffering and
dying. It was far beyond her power as yet to acquiesce in her aunt's
consolation that it was happier for the child himself, than if he was
to grow up to temptation from without, and with an unsound
constitution, with dangerous hereditary proclivities. She could
believe it in faith, nay, she had already experienced the difficulties
her father had thrown in her way of dealing with him, she tried to be
resigned, but the good sense of the Canoness was too much for her.

It was a day of more haste than suited the ideal of such a time, for
Mr. Egremont could not be left for a night; so there was only time for
a luncheon, with little jerks of talk, and then for an hour spent in
short private interviews. Mrs. Egremont obtained from poor Nurse Poole
all the details, and, moreover, her opinion of Mr. Mark's baby, in
whom, it having been born under her auspices, she took a special
interest.

Nuttie meantime was pacing the shady walk with her dear old friend Miss
Nugent, feeling it strange that her heart did not leap up at the bare
presence of one she loved so much, yet conscious of the soothing of her
sympathy. And Mary, watching her all through, had been struck with the
increased sweetness and nobleness her countenance had acquired during
these years of discipline. More of her mother's expression had come
than could have been thought possible in features of such a different
mould, formed for so much more strength and energy. They had not met
since Nuttie had been summoned home to her mother's deathbed, and their
time was chiefly spent on reminiscences alike of the old sorrow and the
new; but, when the time for parting was nearly come, Mary said
affectionately, 'And you, my dear?'

'Oh, I am all right,' said Nuttie, and her eyes shone with a light Mary
did not at the moment understand; 'you need not be anxious for me
_now_.'

'I suppose that unhappy valet's death makes your task easier,' said
Mary.

'I think it will,' said Nuttie. 'Poor man! He was--I can't help
saying it--the evil genius of the house. Dear mother knew it,
struggled against him, and broke down in the struggle. It seems so
strange that what she could not do has been done in such a manner, and
at such a price! I wonder whether she knew it when she welcomed her
boy!'

'Her influence will aid you still,' said Mary, 'and you have Mr.