mestic life, Grey's presence was an
all-pervading power, or as an old woman whom he had once befriended
expressed it:

"He was like a great warm stove in a cold room."

And Bessie felt the warmth, and was glad he was there, and said to him:

"I wish you would tell me about that house among the rocks and the woman
who lives there, I am sure I should like her, and I know so little of
America or the American people. You are almost the first I have ever
seen."

Before Grey could answer her Neil came in, and as supper was soon after
served, no further allusion was made to America until the table was
cleared away, and the party of four were sitting around the fire, Archie
in his accustomed corner with Bessie at his side, her hand on the arm of
his chair and her head occasionally resting lovingly against his
shoulder. Neil was opposite, while Grey sat before the fire, with now
and then a shiver running down his back as the rising wind crept into
the room, even through the thick curtains which draped the rattling
windows behind him. But Grey did not care for the cold. His thoughts
were across the sea, in the house among the rocks, and he was wondering
if his Aunt Hannah was alone that Christmas Eve, and was thinking just
how dark, and ghostly and cold was the interior of that bedroom, whose
door was seldom opened, and where no one had ever been since his
grandfather's death except his Aunt Hannah and himself. As if divining
his thoughts, Bessie said to him: "I wish you would tell us about that
house among the rocks. Is it very old?"

"Yes, one of the oldest in Allington," Grey replied, and instantly
Archie roused from his usual apathetic State and repeated:

"Allington? Did you say Allington, in Massachusetts?"

"Yes," Grey replied. "Allington, in Massachusetts; about forty miles or
so from Boston. Do you know the place?"

"My aunt lives there--the woman for whom Bessie was named, Miss Betsey
McPherson. Do you know her?"

"Yes, I used to know her well when I was so often in Allington before my
grandfather died," Grey replied, and Neil said to him:

"What manner of woman is she? Something of a shrew, I fancy. I saw her
once when I was a boy, and she boxed my ears because I called her old
Bet Buttermilk, and she said that I and all the English were fools,
because I asked her if there were any wildcats in the woods behind her
house."

"Served you right," Grey said, laughingly, and then continued; "She is
rather eccen