"A large house, isn't it?" she queried. "One can't see much out of this
little pane of glass and through the rain and mist."

"It's a fine place, ma'am, and a good, big house," he returned. "I
wouldn't mind ownin' such a place myself. It's grand in the summer time,
and not so bad to look at even now through all this storm o' mist, hail,
and rain."

"Yes; I dare say," she said, shivering; "and if it was little better
than a hovel I'd be glad to reach it and get out of this chilling wind.
It penetrates to one's very bones."

She drew her cloak closer about her as she spoke, and as the hack turned
in at the avenue gates took up her satchel and umbrella in evident haste
to alight.

In the home-like parlour of the mansion they were approaching sat a
lovely-looking lady of mature years, a little group of children gathered
about her listening intently and with great interest to a story she was
telling them, while a sweet-faced young girl, sitting near with a bit of
tatting in her hands, seemed an equally interested hearer, ready to join
in the outburst of merriment that now and again greeted something in the
narrative.

"There is a hack coming up the avenue, Eva. Can we be going to have a
visitor this stormy day?" suddenly exclaimed the eldest boy, glancing
out of the window near where he stood. "Yes, it has come to a standstill
at the foot of the veranda steps, and the driver seems to be getting
ready to help someone out."

"A lady! Why, who can she be?" cried Eric, the next in age, as the hack
door was thrown open and the driver assisted his passenger to alight,
while Evelyn laid down her work and hastened into the hall to greet and
welcome the guest, whoever she might be; for the Fairview family, like
nearly every other in that region of country, was exceedingly
hospitable.

A servant had already opened the outer door and now another stepped
forward to take the lady's satchel and umbrella.

"Who can she be?" Evelyn asked herself as she hastily crossed the
veranda and held out a welcoming hand with a word or two of pleasant
greeting.

"Is it you, Evelyn?" asked the stranger in tones that trembled with
emotion. "And do you not know me--your own mother!"

"Mother; oh, mother, can it be you?" cried Evelyn, catching the stranger
in her arms and holding her fast with sobs and tears and kisses. "I had
not heard from you for so long, and have been feeling as if I should
never see you again. And oh, how thin and weak