raps, and sending her to the
ladies, while he went up to Brandon's peculiar domain to talk over some
business with him.

They went down into the morning-room together, and Emily rose to meet
John. It was the first time he had seen her in her mourning-dress and
with the cap that did not seem at all to belong to her.

Emily was a graceful young woman. Her face, of a fine oval shape, was
devoid of ruddy hues; yet it was more white than pale; the clear dark
grey eyes shining with health, and the mouth being red and beautiful.
The hair was dark, abundant, and devoid of gloss, and she had the
advantage of a graceful and cordial manner, and a very charming smile.

There were tears on her eyelashes when she spoke to John, and he knew
that his little cherub of a child must have caused them. She presently
went back to her place, taking little Anastasia on her knee; while
Dorothea, sitting on the sofa close to them, and facing the child,
occupied and pleased herself with the little creature, and encouraged
her to talk.

Of English children this was a lovely specimen, and surely there are
none lovelier in the world. Dorothea listened to her pretty tongue, and
mused over her with a silent rapture. Her hair fell about her face like
flakes of floss-silk, loose, and yellow as Indian corn; and her rosy
cheeks were deeply dimpled. She was the only one of the Mortimers who
was small for her years. She liked being nursed and petted, and while
Dorothea smoothed out the fingers of her tiny gloves, the little fat
hands, so soft and warm, occupied themselves with the contents of her
work-box.

She was relating how Grand had invited them all to spend the day. "Papa
brought the message, and they all wanted to go; and so--" she was
saying, when John caught the sound of her little voice--"and so papa
said, 'What! not one of you going to stay with your poor old
father?'"--these words, evidently authentic, she repeated with the
deepest pathos--"and so," she went on, "I said, 'I will.'" Then, after
a pause for reflection, "That was kind of me, wasn't it?"

A few caresses followed.

Then catching sight of Emily's brooch, in which was a portrait of her
child, little Nancy put the wide tulle cap-strings aside, and looked at
it earnestly.

"I know who that is," she said, after bestowing a kiss on the baby's
face.

"Do you, my sweet? who is it, then?"

"It's Freddy; he's gone to the happy land. It's full of little boys and
girls. Grand's goi