said the young hostess, as she arose, with a smile, to
conduct her guest.

They left the drawing-room together.

And while Laura Lytton was arranging her toilet in the chamber above
stairs, Emma Cavendish told her the particulars of Mary Grey's
departure, and also of the letter she had received from her
long-estranged relative, Mrs. Fanning.

They went down to tea, where they were joined by Electra and the Rev.
Dr. Jones.

Miss Cavendish presented Mr. Lytton to Dr. Jones. And then they sat down
to the table.

Alden Lytton's eyes and thoughts were naturally enough occupied and
interested in Emma Cavendish. He had not exactly fallen in love with
her, but he was certainly filled with admiration for the loveliest girl
he had ever seen. And he could but draw involuntary comparisons between
the fair, frank, bright maiden and the beautiful, alluring widow.

Both were brilliant, but with this difference: the one with the pure
life-giving light of Heaven, and the other with the fatal fire of
Tartarus.

After tea they went into the drawing-room, where they spent a long
evening talking over old times--_their_ "old times" being something less
than one year of age.

And every hour confirmed Alden Lytton's admiration of Emma Cavendish.

The next day Alden Lytton was invited upstairs to the old lady's room
and presented to Madam Cavendish, who received him with much cordiality,
telling him that his grandfather had been a lifelong personal friend of
hers, and that she had known his father from his infancy up to the time
that he had left the neighborhood to practice law in the city.

And after a short interview the ancient gentlewoman and the young law
student parted mutually well pleased with each other.

"A fine young man--a very fine young man indeed; but more like his
grandfather, as I remember him in his youth, than like his father, whom
I could not always well approve," said the old lady to her confidential
attendant, Aunt Moll, who had closed the chamber door after the
departing visitor.

"Dunno nuffin 'tall 'bout dat, ole mist'ess, but he monsus hansume,
dough--umph-um; a'n't he dough? And a'n't he got eyes--umph-um!"

Alden went down-stairs.

"The most interesting old lady I have ever seen in my life, with the
balsamic aroma of history and antiquity about her and all her
surroundings," he said, as he joined the young ladies in the
drawing-room.

"Balsamic aroma of _what_?" inquired Electra, who had no taste