illed, as the breast of a nursing mother thrills and
beats for her longing babe.

She had told no one she was coming; for, the determination made, she
knew that she would reach home before the Dalton postman got the
letter to Seat-Ambar. The gig she had hired she left at the lower
garden gate; and then she walked quickly through the rose-alley up to
the front door. It stood open, and she heard a baby crying. How
strange the wailing notes sounded! She went forward, and opened the
parlour door; Alice was washing the child, and she turned with an
annoyed look to see the intruder.

Of course the expression changed, but not quickly enough to prevent
Aspatria seeing that her visit was inopportune. Alice said afterward
that she did not recognize her sister-in-law, and, as Will met her
precisely as he would have met an entire stranger, Alice's excuse was
doubtless a valid one. There were abundant exclamations and rejoicings
when her identity was established, but Will could do nothing all the
evening but wonder over the changes that had taken place in his
sister.

However, when the first joy of reunion is over, it is a prudent thing
not to try too far the welcome that is given to the home-comer who has
once left home. Will and Alice had grown to the idea that Aspatria
would never return to claim the room in Seat-Ambar which was hers
legally so long as she lived. It had been refurnished and was used as
a guest-room. Aspatria looked with dismay on the changes made. Her
very sampler had been sent away,--the bit of canvas made sacred by her
mother's fingers holding her own over it. She could remember the
instances connected with the formation of almost every letter of its
simple prayer,--

Jesus, permit thy gracious name to stand
As the first effort of my infant hand;
And, as my fingers on the sampler move,
Engage my tender heart to seek thy love.
With thy dear children may I have a part,
And write thy Name, thyself, upon my heart.

And it was gone! She went into the lumber-room, and picked it out from
under a pile of old prints and shabbily framed certificates for prize
cattle.

With a sad heart Aspatria regarded the other changes. Her little
tent-bed, with its white dimity curtains, had been given to baby's
nurse. The vase her father had bought her at Kendal fair was broken.
Her small mirror and dressing-table had been removed for a fine Psyche
in a gilded frame. Nothing, nothing was untouched, but the big
d