is nothing impossible about it. We can see how simply it
all happened."

"What is she like?"

"Mrs. Barrington was quite puzzled about a resemblance to some one, and
she thinks it you. She has not the radiant beauty of your girlhood,
neither has she the dazzling charm of Zay. Oh, I think she is the most
like Willard; rather too grand for a girl of sixteen, with a great deal
of dignity. Oh, you should hear Mrs. Barrington talk about her. And how
do you suppose she and the doctor kept the secret yesterday! They knew
it would disturb our happy Christmas. And _she_ was nursing the sick
woman."

"Oh, did she know?"

"Not that she was our daughter until this morning. I felt bewildered
over it all," and Major Crawford gave a deep drawn sigh.

His wife pressed his hand. Her tears were flowing silently.

"Well--it will be very strange to have her here," remarked Miss
Crawford. "But I warn you, Zay will always be the dearest to me."

Twilight was falling around them. Mrs. Crawford would never have her own
lights early. This was her favorite hour with her husband. Aunt Kate
stole softly to Zay's room and found her sleeping tranquilly, the fever
mostly gone.

"Oh, I wonder how you will take it," she mused. "You have been the
darling of the household so long."

For somehow, she was not in a mood to welcome this newcomer. True, there
must be the strongest proof or Major Crawford would not have been
convinced or allowed himself to get in such a passion with this Mrs.
Boyd. But a girl reared amid the commonest surroundings, enduring the
straits of poverty, lack of education, no accomplishments, how could she
take her place in the front rank of Mount Morris society? And the
boys--how would they accept this rusticity and probably self conceit?

Major Crawford and his wife often fell into tender and mysterious
confidences at this hour, that were never shared with others. They were
very happy in her recovery though the last two years she had suffered
very little. But she did not want to depute the care of her daughter
growing into womanhood entirely to Aunt Kate who had many worldly aims
and prejudices, and who was very proud of her niece's beauty. And now
such a load was lifted from her soul that had never quite forgiven
itself for taking her finest baby on the unfortunate journey.

"Oh, I must see her," she cried in a whisper.

"But she will not come here until all is over with that poor woman. I do
not see how she can car