rt her. Who shall I tell Mahs' Robert is
come?"

"There is no need to tell him who I am," said Mrs Keswick. "Just take
me in to him. That's all you have to do."

A good deal doubtful of the propriety of this proceeding, but
more doubtful of the propriety of opposing the wishes of such a
determined-looking visitor, the woman stepped to the back part of the
hall, and opened the door. The moment she did so, Mrs Keswick entered,
and closed the door behind her.

Mr Brandon was seated in an arm chair by a table, and not very far
from a wood fire of a size suited to the season. His slippered feet
were on a cushioned stool; his eye-glasses were carefully adjusted on
the capacious bridge of his nose; and, intent upon a newspaper which
had arrived by that morning's mail, he presented the appearance of a
very well satisfied old gentleman, in very comfortable circumstances.
But when he turned his head and saw the Widow Keswick close the door
behind her, every idea of satisfaction or comfort seemed to vanish
from his mind. He dropped the paper; he rose to his feet; he took
off his eye-glasses; he turned somewhat red in the face; and he
ejaculated: "What! madam! So it is you, Mrs Keswick?"

The old lady did not immediately answer. Her head dropped a little on
one side, a broad smile bewrinkled the lower part of her well-worn
visage, and with her eyes half-closed, behind her heavy spectacles,
she held out both her hands, the purple umbrella in one of them, and
exclaimed in a voice of happy fervor: "Robert! I am yours!"

Mr Brandon, recovered from his first surprise, had made a step forward
to go round the table and greet his visitor; but at these words he
stopped as if he had been shot. Perception, understanding, and even
animation, seemed to have left him as he vacantly stared at the
elderly female with purple sun-bonnet and umbrella, blue calico gown,
red shawl and coarse boots, who held out her arms towards him, and who
gazed upon him with an air of tender, though decrepit, fondness.

"Don't you understand me, Robert?" she continued. "Don't you remember
the day, many a good long year ago, it is true, when we walked
together down there by the branch, and you asked me to be yours? I
refused you, Robert, and, although you went down on your knees in the
damp grass and besought me to give you my heart, I would not do it.
But I did not know you then as I know you now, Robert, and the words
of true love which you spoke to me that m