enture upon mere words of compliment.

"I am not sure," said she, "that my name even is known to you."

"It is not," I answered. "You have seemed to avoid any allusion thereto,
and delicacy forbade my asking."

"There has been no purposed concealment. My name is Montgomery; and I am
sister to the late Captain Allen."

"I had already inferred this relationship." The remark evidently
surprised her.

"On what ground could you base such an inference?" she asked, curiously.

"On traditional ground. The history of this old mansion is familiar
to most persons in S----; and some of the incidents connected with the
family have too strong a tinge of romance about them to easily pass into
oblivion. It is well known to us that Captain Allen had an only sister."

"What is it said became of her?"

"When she was about two years of age her mother carried her off,
sailing, as was believed, to England, of which country she was a
native."

"Is the name of the child preserved in this tradition?"

"Yes. It was Flora."

"My own name," she said.

"And in person you are identical."

"Yes. My mother's early life embraced some dreadful experiences. Her
father and mother, with two brothers and a younger sister, were all
murdered by pirates. She alone was spared, and afterwards became the
wife of a sea captain, who, I fear, was not a man innocent of blood.
On this point, however, my mother was reserved, almost silent. In the
course of time she grew so wretched, as the wife of this man, that
she sent a letter to England, addressed to some remembered relative,
imploring him to save her from a life that was worse than death. This
letter fell into the right hands. A cousin was sent out from England,
and she fled with him. No attempt, as far as we know, was ever made to
follow and regain her She did not live many years afterwards. I grew
up among my relatives, ignorant of her history. My memory of her is
distinct, though she died when I was but eight years old.

"I married, at the age of twenty-six, an officer in the British army,
one of the younger sons in a titled family, for whom no way in the
world is opened, except through the church or the battle-field. General
Montgomery chose the profession of a soldier, not from a love of its
exciting and fearful concomitants, but because he had no fancy for the
gown and cassock, and could not be a hypocrite in religion. He went
quite early to British India, and distinguished himself there by