sound of Lenora's voice.

"Walter is dying," said she to Kate, "and would see you once more.
Come quickly."

Hastily dressing herself, Kate went forth with the strange girl, who
spoke not a word until Walter's room was reached. Feebly the sick man
wound his arms around Kate's neck, exclaiming, "My own, my beautiful
Kate, I knew you would come. I am better now--I shall live!" and as if
there was indeed something life-giving in her very presence and the
sound of her voice, Walter from that hour grew better: and in three
weeks' time he, together with Margaret, left his childhood's home,
once so dear, but now darkened by the presence of her who watched
their departure with joy, exulting in the thought that she was
mistress of all she surveyed.

Walter, who was studying law in the city about twenty miles distant,
resolved to return thither immediately, and after some consultation
with his sister it was determined that both she and Kate should
accompany him. Accordingly, a few mornings after they left the
homestead, there was a quiet bridal at the mill-pond cottage; after
which Walter Hamilton bore away to his city home his sister and his
bride, the beautiful Kate.

CHAPTER XII.

"CARRYING OUT DEAR MR. HAMILTON'S PLANS."

One morning about ten days after the departure of Walter the good
people of Glenwood were greatly surprised at the unusual confusion
which seemed to pervade the homestead. The blinds were taken off,
windows taken out, carpets taken up, and where so lately physicians,
clergymen, and death had officiated, were now seen carpenters, masons,
and other workmen. Many were the surmises as to the cause of all this;
and one old lady, more curious than the rest, determined upon a
friendly call, to ascertain, if possible, what was going on.

She found Mrs. Hamilton with her sleeves rolled up, and her hair
tucked under a black cap, consulting with a carpenter about enlarging
her bedroom and adding to it a bathing-room. Being received but coldly
by the mistress of the house, she descended to the basement, where she
was told by Aunt Polly that "the blinds were going to be repainted, an
addition built, the house turned wrong-side out, and Cain raised
generally."

"It's a burning shame," said Aunt Polly, warmed up by her subject and
the hot oven into which she was thrusting loaves of bread and pies.
"It's a burning shame--a tearin' down and a goin' on this way, and
marster not cold in his grave. Miss Leno