s
story. We went back to the hall now, and found Milly and Mr.
Stormont looking rather listlessly at the old portraits of the
Egerton race. I was anxious to see a picture of the last Mrs.
Egerton, after what I had heard about her, and, at my request, the
housekeeper showed me one in the drawing-room.

She was very handsome, and wonderfully like her son. I could fancy
those two haughty spirits in opposition.

We spent another hour looking over the rest of the house--old
tapestry, old pictures, old china, old furniture, secret staircases,
carved chimneypieces, muniment chests, and the usual objects of
interest to be found in such a place. After that we walked a little
in the neglected garden, where there were old holly hedges that had
grown high and wild for want of clipping, and where a curious old
sun-dial had fallen down upon the grass in a forlorn way. The paths
were all green and moss-grown, and the roses were almost choked with
bindweed. I saw Mrs. Darrell gather one of these roses and put it in
her breast. It was the first time I have ever seen her pluck a
flower, though there was a wealth of roses at Thornleigh.

So ended our visit to Cumber Priory; a place that was destined to be
very memorable to some of us in the time to come.

CHAPTER IV.

MRS. THATCHER.

It had been Milly's habit to devote one day a week to visiting among
the poor, before she went to Albury Lodge; and she now resumed this
practice, I accompanying her upon her visits. I had been used to
going about among the cottagers at home, and I liked the work. It
was very pleasant to see Milly Darrell with these people--the perfect
confidence and sympathy between them and her, the delight they
seemed to take in her bright cheering presence. I was struck by
their simple natural manner, and the absence of anything like
sycophancy to be observed in them. One day, when we had been to
several cottages about the village, Milly asked me if I could manage
rather a long walk; and on my telling her that I could, we started
upon a lonely road that wound across the moor in a direction I had
never walked in until that day. We went on for about two miles
without passing a human habitation, and then came to one of the most
desolate-looking cottages I ever remember seeing. It was little
better than a cabin, and consisted only of two rooms--a kind of
kitchen or dwelling-room, and a dark little bedchamber opening out
of it.

'I am not going to introduce yo