ad seen. It would
be great fun to go into all the rooms some day soon.

"How much you are like your father!" said cousin Agnes, stooping to
kiss me again, with her hand on my shoulder. I had a sudden
consciousness of my bravery in having behaved so well all day; then I
remembered that my father and mother were at every instant being
carried farther and farther away. I could almost hear the waves dash
about the ship; and I could not help crying a little. "Poor little
girl!" said cousin Agnes: "I am very sorry." And she sat down, and
took me in her lap for a few minutes. She was tall, and held me so
comfortably, and I soon was almost happy again; for she hoped I would
not be lonely with her, and that I would not think she was a stranger,
for she had known and loved my father so well; and it would make
cousin Matthew so disappointed and uneasy if I were discontented; and
would I like some bread and milk with my supper, in the same blue
china bowl, with the dragon on it, which my father used to have when
he was a boy? These arguments were by no means lost upon me, and I was
ready to smile presently; and then we went down to the dining-room,
which had some solemn-looking portraits on the walls, and heavy, stiff
furniture; and there was an old-fashioned woman standing ready to
wait, whom cousin Agnes called Deborah, and who smiled at me
graciously.

Cousin Matthew talked with his wife for a time about what had happened
to him and to her during his absence; and then he said, "And how is
madam to-day? you have not spoken of her."--"She is not so well as
usual," said cousin Agnes. "She has had one of her sorrowful times
since you went away. I have sat with her for several hours to-day; but
she has hardly spoken to me." And then cousin Matthew looked at me,
and cousin Agnes hesitated for a minute. Deborah had left the room.

"We speak of a member of our family whom you have not seen, although
you may have heard your father speak of her. She is called Lady Ferry
by most people who know of her; but you may say madam when you speak
to her. She is very old, and her mind wanders, so that she has many
strange fancies; but you must not be afraid, for she is very gentle
and harmless. She is not used to children; but I know you will not
annoy her, and I dare say you can give her much pleasure." This was
all that was said; but I wished to know more. It seemed to me that
there was a reserve about this person, and the old house itself was