ife and Miss Gwynne, who had, thus far, taken
the strange news upon Mr Jones' word, which they never ventured to
dispute.

'This is my writing. Margaret Jones was my sister, and Gladys' mother. I
gave her this book when we were both young, and the date, also in my
handwriting, marks the time, some two or three years after the gift,
when I was at college, and she must have been about eighteen; she ran
away with an Irish soldier, whose real name, even, we never learnt. My
poor father doated on my sister, and spoilt her. She was high-spirited
and wilful, but very loving, and very handsome. Not at all like Gladys.
My sister's was the Welsh, Gladys' the Irish cast of countenance; yet I
have seen an expression in Gladys' face that has reminded me of her
mother.'

'We discovered, after my sister ran away, that she had met the man she
married when going to visit the landlady of a small inn, in my father's
parish, who was ill. It seems that this woman connived at their meeting;
and when strictly questioned, said, that she had believed he was a
gentleman, and that he had called himself Captain O'Brien.'

'My poor father!' here broke in Gladys. 'He bitterly repented this, his
only deception. He was of a good family, and his mother was an O'Brien;
but no one belonging to him could afford to purchase him a commission,
and so he went into the ranks. He once told me, that he persuaded my
mother to marry him first, and then promised to let her write to his
father. But I only know scraps of the story. I fancy my father was on
his way home on leave, when he saw my mother and fell in love with her.
He loved her very dearly, and as long as he lived she wanted nothing
that he could get her. The regiment was suddenly ordered abroad, and my
mother could not write to her father, or did not, before they sailed.
And so she delayed, and delayed; but she wrote at last, and received no
answer at all. I fancy she wrote several times from foreign parts, but
never heard from any one. I know she wrote again from Ireland; but the
letter was returned, with a note from some one, saying that her father
had been dead some years, and no one knew anything of her brother.'

'Too true! too true!' said Mr Jones. 'My poor father, never very strong,
was in his grave in less than six months after my sister left him. I
returned from college to nurse, and bury him. I have told you all this,
my dear Serena, little thinking that the young girl I first saw, after
vi