hink it might be a son of Mother Isel--
she had two. The Ermine of whom he spoke, no doubt, is some girl named
after thine aunt. Perhaps it may be a child of their sister Flemild. I
cannot say."

"You think it could not be my aunt, Mother? I should like to know one
of my own kin."

"Not possible, my boy. She must have died with the rest."

"Are you sure they all died, Mother?"

"I cannot say that I saw it, Rudolph: though I did see the dead faces of
several, when I was searching for thee. But I do not see how she could
possibly have escaped."

"Might she not--if she had escaped--say the same of me?"

Countess seemed scarcely willing to admit even so much as this.

"It is time for sleep, my son," she said; and Rudolph rose, lighted the
lantern, and followed her upstairs. The chamber above was divided in
two by a curtain drawn across it. As Rudolph was about to pass beyond
it, he stopped to ask another question.

"Mother, if I should meet that man again,--suppose he were to speak to
me?"

A disquieted look came into the dark eyes.

"Bring him to me," she said. "Allow nothing--deny nothing. Leave me to
deal with him."

Rudolph dropped the curtain behind him, and silence fell upon the little
house in Mark Lane.

A few hours earlier, our old friend Stephen, now a middle-aged man, had
come home from his daily calling, to his house in Ivy Lane. He was
instantly surrounded by his five boys and girls, their ages between six
and thirteen, all of whom welcomed him with tumultuous joyfulness.

"Father, I've construed a whole book of Virgil!"

"And, Father, I'm to begin Caesar next week!"

"I've made a gavache for you, Father--done every stitch myself!"

"Father, I've learnt how to make pancakes!"

"Father, I stirred the posset!"

"Well, well! have you, now?" answered the kindly-faced father. "You're
all of you mighty clever, I'm very sure. But now, if one or two of you
could get out of the way, I might shut the door; no need to let in more
snow than's wanted.--Where's Mother?"

"Here's Mother," said another voice; and a fair-haired woman of the age
of Countess, but looking younger, appeared in a doorway, drawing back
the curtain. "I am glad you have come, Stephen. It is rather a stormy
night."

"Oh, just a basinful of snow," said Stephen lightly. "Supper ready?
Gerard--" to his eldest boy--"draw that curtain a bit closer, to keep
the wind off Mother. Now let us ask God's blessing."

It w