uses were opening
their golden hearts to the sunshine, and recalling the days when
Anne was as sunny-hearted as they, and she felt as if she could be
as bright again.

In Mrs. Fellowes's parlour they found an unexpected guest, no other
than Mrs. Oakshott.

'Gadding about' not being the fashion of the Archfield household,
Anne had not seen the lady for several years, and was agreeably
surprised by her appearance. Perhaps the marks of smallpox had
faded, perhaps motherhood had given expression, and what had been
gaunt ungainliness in the maiden had rounded into a certain
importance in the matron, nor had her dress, though quiet, any of
the Puritan rigid ugliness that had been complained of, and though
certainly not beautiful, she was a person to inspire respect.

It was explained that she was waiting for her husband, who was gone
with Mr. Fellowes to speak to the officer in command of the soldiers
at the castle. "For," said she, "I am quite convinced that there is
something that ought to be brought to light, and it may be in that
vault."

Anne's heart gave such a throb as almost choked her.

Dr. Woodford asked what the lady meant.

"Well, sir, when spirits and things 'tis not well to talk of are
starting up and about here, there, and everywhere, 'tis plain there
must be cause for it."

"I do not quite take your meaning, madam."

"Ah, well! you gentlemen, reverend ones especially, are the last to
hear such things. There's the poor old Major, he won't believe a
word of it, but you know, Mistress Woodford. I see it in your face.
Have you seen anything?"

"Not here, not now," faltered Anne. "You have, Mrs. Fellowes?"

"I have heard of some foolish fright of the maids," said Naomi,
"partly their own fancy, or perhaps caught from the sentry. There
is no keeping those giddy girls from running after the soldiers."

Perhaps Naomi hoped by throwing out this hint to conduct her
visitors off into the safer topic of domestic delinquencies, but
Mrs. Oakshott was far too earnest to be thus diverted, and she
exclaimed, "Ah, they saw him, I'll warrant!"

"Him?" the Doctor asked innocently.

"Him or his likeness," said Mrs. Oakshott, "my poor brother-in-law,
Peregrine Oakshott; you remember him, sir? He always said, poor
lad, that you and Mrs. Woodford were kinder to him than his own
flesh and blood, except his uncle, Sir Peregrine. For my part, I
never did give in to all the nonsense folk talked about his being a