Colonel
Effingham, who had frequently, prior to leaving the service, visited his
old companion-in-arms, Sir Jasper Coleman, at his favorite residence,
felt much concerned that the niece of his old master should have been
left unprovided for. "Of course," Said Annette, Edith's own maid "I
shall have to return home, for I do not suppose Miss Effingham will
remain here very long, as Sir Ralph is a bachelor, and I know for
certain that she dislikes him exceedingly."

"But what will madam, the widow, do," enquired the footman.

"Set her cap at him as she did at our poor, dear old master," responded
the housekeeper, "No fear, she will take care not to be a loser by the
change." "She will, no doubt," suggested another, "keep house for Sir
Ralph until he brings home a Lady Coleman, or is persuaded into marrying
the widow herself."

It was quite evident, that sympathy ran high in Edith's favour, and that
they cared not a jot for the ex-governess or the new master. But they
were too well trained to betray what they thought concerning the two
last named persons.

The matter was duly talked over throughout the neighbourhood. Some shook
their heads but said nothing, and others said a great deal that meant
nothing. The Bartons sent a very kind and sympathizing letter to Edith
in which they offered her an asylum at the Willows, should she think a
little change of scene would in any way reconcile her to the loss she
had sustained, they having heard that Miss Effingham had in her grief
declined for the present to receive her most intimate friends and
acquaintances.

For many days after the funeral Edith kept within the seclusion of her
own chamber, alas, hers now no longer, but the property of another and
of one whose presence was repugnant to her. With returning consciousness
also came the realization of the sad spectacle that had met her view in
the private library. She had loved and respected her uncle, and had ever
looked up to him as a father, which he had indeed been since the death
of her parents, whom she did not recollect, and grief for his loss had
outweighed all other thoughts and considerations for the future, and for
the first week she gave herself up to inconsolable sorrow. But at length
that practical good sense with which nature had endowed her, came to her
relief. She stifled the rising sobs in her young bosom and prepared to
face the stern realities of life, which must ere long, she knew, force
themselves upon h