s over her breast and smiled.

When the hymn ended, Joscelyn came over to the bed.

"I am afraid I must say good-bye now, Aunty Nan," she said.

Then she saw that Aunty Nan had fallen asleep. She would not waken her,
but she took from her breast the cluster of crimson roses she wore and
slipped them gently between the toil-worn fingers.

"Good-bye, dear, sweet mother-heart," she murmured.

Down-stairs she met Mrs. William splendid in rustling black silk, her
broad, rubicund face smiling, overflowing with apologies and welcomes,
which Joscelyn cut short coldly.

"Thank you, Mrs. Morrison, but I cannot possibly stay longer. No, thank
you, I don't care for any refreshments. Jordan is going to take me back
to Kensington at once. I came out to see Aunty Nan." "I'm certain she'd
be delighted," said Mrs. William effusively. "She's been talking about
you for weeks."

"Yes, it has made her very happy," said Joscelyn gravely. "And it has
made me happy, too. I love Aunty Nan, Mrs. Morrison, and I owe her much.
In all my life I have never met a woman so purely, unselfishly good and
noble and true."

"Fancy now," said Mrs. William, rather overcome at hearing this great
singer pronounce such an encomium on quiet, timid old Aunty Nan.

Jordan drove Joscelyn back to Kensington; and up-stairs in her room
Aunty Nan slept, with that rapt smile on her face and Joscelyn's red
roses in her hands. Thus it was that Mrs. William found her, going in
the next morning with her breakfast. The sunlight crept over the pillow,
lighting up the sweet old face and silver hair, and stealing downward
to the faded red roses on her breast. Smiling and peaceful and happy
lay Aunty Nan, for she had fallen on the sleep that knows no earthy
wakening, while little Joscelyn sang.

V. The Winning of Lucinda

The marriage of a Penhallow was always the signal for a gathering of
the Penhallows. From the uttermost parts of the earth they would
come--Penhallows by birth, and Penhallows by marriage and Penhallows
by ancestry. East Grafton was the ancient habitat of the race, and
Penhallow Grange, where "old" John Penhallow lived, was a Mecca to them.

As for the family itself, the exact kinship of all its various branches
and ramifications was a hard thing to define. Old Uncle Julius Penhallow
was looked upon as a veritable wonder because he carried it all in his
head and could tell on sight just what relation any one Penhallow was
to any other Pe