ives
its title of "Church-town."

He tapped at the door, which was opened by an elderly female.

"Does Mr Thomas Donnithorne live here?" asked Oliver.

"Iss, sur, he do," answered the woman; "walk in, sur."

She ushered him into a small parlour, in which was seated a pretty,
little, dark-eyed, rosy-cheeked girl, still in, or only just out of, her
teens. Oliver was so taken aback by the unexpected sight that he stood
gazing for a moment or two in rather stupid silence.

"Your name is Oliver Trembath, I presume," said the girl, rising and
laying down the piece of needlework with which she was occupied.

"It is," replied Oliver, in some surprise, as he blundered out an
apology for his rudeness.

"Pray sit down, sir," said the girl; "we have been expecting you for
some time, and my uncle told me to act the part of hostess till his
return."

"Your uncle!" exclaimed Oliver, whose self-possession, not to say
impudence, returned immediately; "if Thomas Donnithorne be indeed your
uncle, then, fair maid, you and I must needs be cousins, the which, I
confess, fills me with satisfaction and also with somewhat of surprise,
for up to this hour I have been ignorant of my good fortune in being
related to so--so--"

"I made a mistake, sir," said the girl, interrupting a speech which was
evidently verging towards impropriety, "in calling Mr Donnithorne uncle
to you, who are not aware, it seems, that I am only an adopted niece."

"Not aware of it! Of course not," said Oliver, throwing himself into a
large armchair, while his fair companion busied herself in spreading the
board for a substantial meal. "I could not be aware of much that has
occurred in this distant part of the kingdom, seeing that my worthy
uncle has vouchsafed to write me only two letters in the course of my
life; once, many years ago, to condole with me--in about ten lines,
address and signature included--on the death of my dear mother; and once
again to tell me he had procured an appointment for me as
assistant-surgeon in the mining district of St. Just. He must have been
equally uncommunicative to my mother, for she never mentioned your
existence. However, since I have now made the agreeable discovery, I
trust that you will dispense with ceremony, and allow me at once to call
you cousin. By the way, you have not yet told me your name."

The maiden, who was charmingly unsophisticated, replied that her name
was Rose Ellis, and that she had no objection