unkind kinsman. He will not be in it, thou
knowest; see where he rides out of the gate.'

So I looked and saw Mr. Dacre riding off, a very grand gentleman on his
tall black horse, with his men, also well mounted, following him.

'He will be in town before nightfall,' quoth Mrs. Golding.

It did not seem so insupportable to stay one more night in our old home,
now its new master had left it; but I was in haste to be gone for all
that, and Althea too; so we fell to work with great eagerness, gathering
all our own possessions together and packing them for removal; while
Mrs. Golding helped us with her hands and her counsel; and so well we
worked that the sun had not gone down before we had all in readiness for
our departure in the early morning; for it was the height of summer, and
the days therefore long. Then Mrs. Golding would have us take her into
the garden and show us what used to be our mother's favourite walks and
alcoves; there was a good prospect of the house from one of them, and
she stood some time regarding it.

'It's a stately place,' said she,--'a very noble house indeed, and a
fair garden too. Your mother had a pride in it once, I know; and there
was a time when it would have grieved her sore to think how her children
should leave it. But what signifies that to her now?--a happy, glorified
spirit, who may scorn the transitory riches and joys of this poor world,
which are far outvalued by one ray shining on us from the Father of
Lights. At His right hand are pleasures for evermore.'

Althea and I looked on each other surprised, for we had then heard
little of that kind of talk; and, our aunt espying it,--

'Ah, children,' she said, 'I have learnt a new language since I saw you,
and I see you know it not; but your mother could speak it before I
could. I think thou art most like her, Lucy; there is more of your poor
father about Althea.'

I looked at Althea and thought Mrs. Golding was not much mistaken; for
if I were to write my sister's description, it would need but the change
of a word or two to make it pass for a portrait of my father. Like him,
she is tall and slender and well-shaped; her complexion pale and clear,
her hair almost black, very thick, softer than the finest silk, and
curling in loose rings at the ends; her brows and eyelashes black also,
but her eyes a blue-grey, appearing black when she is much moved or in
deep thought; and she moves with admirable grace, showing a kind of
noblenes