eration. Beneath it was a case containing a
necklace of small but perfect pearls and a pair of tiny satin
slippers. The rest of the compartment was filled with household linen,
fine and costly but yellowed with age--damask table linen and webs of
the uncut fabric.

In the second compartment lay a dress. Aunt Winnifred lifted it out
reverently. It was a gown of rich silk that had once been white, but
now, like the linen, it was yellow with age. It was simply made and
trimmed with cobwebby old lace. Wrapped around it was a long white
bridal veil, redolent with some strange, old-time perfume that had
kept its sweetness all through the years.

"Well, Amy, this is all," said Aunt Winnifred with a quiver in her
voice. "And now for the story. Where shall I begin?"

"At the very beginning, Aunty. You see I know nothing at all except
her name. Tell me who she was and why she put her wedding dress away
here."

"Poor Eliza!" said Aunt dreamily. "It is a sorrowful story, Amy, and
it seems so long ago now. I must be an old woman. Forty years ago--and
I was only twenty then. Eliza Laurance was my cousin, the only
daughter of Uncle Henry Laurance. My father--your grandfather, Amy,
you don't remember him--had two brothers, each of whom had an only
daughter. Both these girls were called Eliza after your
great-grandmother. I never saw Uncle George's Eliza but once. He was a
rich man and his daughter was much sought after, but she was no
beauty, I promise you that, and proud and vain to the last degree.
Her home was in a distant city and she never came to Wyther Grange.

"The other Eliza Laurance was a poor man's daughter. She and I were of
the same age and did not look unlike each other, although I was not so
pretty by half. You can see by the portrait how beautiful she was, and
it does her scant justice, for half her charm lay in her arch
expression and her vivacious ways. She had her little faults, of
course, and was rather over much given to romance and sentiment. This
did not seem much of a defect to me then, Amy, for I was young and
romantic too. Mother never cared much for Eliza, I think, but everyone
else liked her. One winter Eliza came to Wyther Grange for a long
visit. The Grange was a very lively place then, Amy. Eliza kept the
old house ringing with merriment. We went out a great deal and she was
always the belle of any festivity we attended. Yet she wore her
honours easily; all the flattery and homage she received did