the old lady's apartment.

Mrs. Cavendish was sitting in her great easy-chair by the fire, with her
gold-rimmed spectacles on her nose and her Bible lying open on her lap.

As Emma entered the room the old lady closed the book and looked up with
a welcoming smile.

"I have come to tell you, my dear grandma, that Aunt Fanning has
arrived," said Emma, drawing a chair and seating herself by the old
lady's side.

"Yes, my dear child; but I'll trouble you not to call her Aunt Fanning,"
said Madam Cavendish, haughtily.

"But she _is_ my aunt, dear grandma," returned Emma, with a deprecating
smile.

"Then call her Aunt Katherine. I detest the name of that tavern-keeper
whom she married."

"Grandma--grandma, the man has gone where at least there can be no
distinctions of mere family rank," said Emma.

"That's got nothing to do with it. We are _here_ now. Well, and when
did Katherine arrive, and where have you put her? Tell me all about it."

Emma told her all about it.

"Well," said the old lady, "as she is here, though sorely against my
approbation--still, as she is here we must give her a becoming welcome,
I suppose. You may bring her to my room to-morrow morning."

"Thank you, grandma, dear; that is just what I would like to do,"
replied the young lady.

Accordingly, the next morning Mrs. Fanning was conducted by Emma to the
"Throne Room," as Electra had saucily designated the old lady's
apartment.

Madam Cavendish was dressed with great care, in a fine black cashmere
wrapper, lined and trimmed with black silk, and a fine white lace cap,
trimmed with white piping.

And old Moll, also in her best clothes, stood behind her mistress's
chair.

The old lady meant to impress "the tavern-keeper's widow" with a due
sense of reverence.

But the gentlewoman's heart was a great deal better than her head. And
so, when she saw the girl whom she had once known a brilliant,
rich-complexioned brunette, with raven hair and sparkling eyes and
queenly form changed into a woman, old before her time, pale, thin, gray
and sorrow-stricken, her heart melted with pity, and she held out her
hand, saying, kindly:

"How do you do, Katie, my dear? I am very sorry to see you looking in
such ill-health. You have changed very much from the child I knew you,
twenty-five years ago."

"Yes," said Mrs. Fanning, as she took and pressed the venerable hand
that was held out to her. "I have changed. But there is only one more
change that