r; believed all that her mother did, and found herself the
object of a romantic recognition--if not the beggar girl become a
princess, at any rate, the little school-teacher a county lady! And
she had never seen her mother so wildly, overpoweringly happy with joy.
That made her, too, feel that something grand and glorious had happened.

'What are we going to do?' she asked, as the vehemence of Mrs.
Egremont's emotion began to work itself off.

'Home! He takes us to his home! _His_ home!' repeated her mother, in
a trance of joy, as the yearnings of her widowed heart now were
fulfilled.

'Oh, but Aunt Ursel!'

'Poor Aunt Ursel! Oh, Nuttie, Nuttie, I had almost forgotten! How
could I?' and there was a shower of tears of compunction. 'But he said
he owed everything to her! She will come with us! Or if she doesn't
live with us, we will make her live close by in a dear little cottage.
Where is she? When did she go? I never saw her go.'

The sound of the front door was heard, for the visitor had been watched
away and Miss Headworth was returning to her own house to be there
received with another fervent gush of happiness, much more trying to
her, poor thing, than to Nuttie.

There was evensong imminent, and the most needful act at the moment was
to compose the harmonium-player sufficiently for her to take her part.
Miss Headworth was really glad of the necessity, since it put off the
discussion, and made a reason for silencing Nuttie until all should be
more recovered from the first agitation. Alice Egremont herself was
glad to carry her gratitude and thankfulness to the Throne of Grace,
and in her voluntary, and all her psalms, there was an exulting strain
that no one had thought the instrument capable of producing, and that
went to the heart of more than one of her hearers. No one who knew her
could doubt that hers was simply innocent exultation in the recovery of
him whom she so entirely loved and confided in. But there could not
but be terrible doubts whether he were worthy of that trust, and what
the new page in her life would be.

Miss Headworth had said they would not talk till after church, but
there was no deferring the matter then. She was prepared, however,
when her niece came up to her in a tender deprecating manner, saying,
'Aunt Ursel, dear Aunt Ursel, it does seem very ungrateful, but--'

'He is going to take you away? Yes, I saw that. And it ought to be,
my dear. You know where?'

'Y