delighted even with crumbs.

CHAPTER XVII.

A FRESH DISCOVERY.

Some time passed away, and Hilda had no more interviews with
Gualtier. The latter settled down into a patient, painstaking
music-teacher once more, who seemed not to have an idea beyond his
art. Hilda held herself aloof; and, even when she might have
exchanged a few confidential words, she did not choose to do so. And
Gualtier was content, and quiet, and patient.

Nearly eighteen months had passed away since Zillah's visit to
Pomeroy Court, and she began to be anxious to pay another visit. She
had been agitating the subject for some time; but it had been
postponed from time to time, for various reasons, the chief one being
the ill health of the Earl. At length, however, his health improved
somewhat, and Zillah determined to take advantage of this to go.

This time, the sight of the Court did not produce so strong an effect
as before. She did not feel like staying alone, but preferred having
Hilda with her, and spoke freely about the past. They wandered about
the rooms, looked over all the well-remembered places, rode or
strolled through the grounds, and found, at every step, inside of the
Court, and outside also, something which called up a whole world of
associations.

Wandering thus about the Court, from one room to another, it was
natural that Zillah should go often to the library, where her father
formerly passed the greater part of his time. Here they chiefly
staid, and looked over the hooks and pictures.

One day the conversation turned toward the desk, and Zillah casually
remarked that her father used to keep this place so sacred from her
intrusion that she had acquired a kind of awe of it, which she had
not yet quite overcome. This led Hilda to propose, laughingly, that
she should explore it now, on the spot; and, taking the keys, she
opened it, and turned over some of the papers. At length she opened a
drawer, and drew out a miniature. Zillah snatched it from her, and,
looking at it for a few moments, burst into tears.

"It's my mother," she cried, amidst her sobs; "my mother! Oh, my
mother!"

Hilda said nothing.

"He showed it to me once, when I was a little child, and I often have
wondered, in a vague way, what became of it. I never thought of
looking here."

"You may find other things here, also, if you look," said Hilda,
gently. "No doubt your papa kept here all his most precious things."

The idea excited Zillah. She