ch passed between her parents before she
woke, or she might have been still more on her guard.

"Licorice, thou must take care what thou sayest to that child. I told
her that Anegay was not her sister."

"Just what might have been expected of thee, my paragon of wisdom!
Well, never mind. I'll tell her she was her aunt. That will do as
well."

When the daily cleaning, dusting, cooking, and baking were duly
completed, Licorice made Belasez's heart flutter by a command to attend
her in the little porch-chamber.

"Belasez," she began, in tones so amiable that Belasez would instantly
have suspected a trap, had she overheard nothing,--for Licorice's
character was well known to her--"Belasez, I hear from thy father that
thou hast heard some foolish gossip touching one Anegay, that was a
kinswoman of thine, and thou art desirous of knowing the truth. Thou
shalt know it now. Indeed, there was no reason to hide it from thee
further than this, that the tale being a painful one, thy father and I
have not cared to talk about it. This Anegay was the sister of Abraham
thy father, and therefore thine aunt."

Belasez, who had been imagining that Anegay might have been her father's
sister, at once mentally decided that she was not. She had noticed that
Abraham's references to the dead girl were made with far more indication
of love and regret than those of Licorice: and she had fancied that this
might be due to the existence of relationship on his part and not on
hers. She now concluded that it was simply a question of character.
But who Anegay was, was a point left as much in the dark as ever.

"She was a great friend of mine, daughter, and I loved her very dearly,"
said Licorice, applying one hand to her perfectly dry eyes--a proceeding
which imparted to Belasez, who knew that such terms from her were
generally to be interpreted by the rule of contrary, a strong impression
that she had hated her. "And at that time thy father dwelt at Lincoln--
it was before we were married, thou knowest--and Anegay, being an only
and motherless daughter, used to spend much of her time with me. I
cannot quite tell thee how, for indeed it was a puzzle to myself, but
Anegay became acquainted with a Christian maiden whose name was
Beatrice--"

A peculiar twinkle in the eyes of Licorice caused Belasez to feel
especially doubtful of the truth of this part of the story.

"And who had a brother," pursued Licorice, "a young Christian squire,