newspapers, threw himself into an armchair, and seemed perfectly
forgetful of my existence.

The lady stood a moment in mute surprise, and I saw that she changed
color from pale to red, and red to pale, before she came forward with
the enchanting grace of unaffected kindness, took me by the hand, drew
me to a seat next to her own, and asked so cordially after my father, my
uncle, my whole family, that in five minutes I felt myself at home.
Lady Ellinor listened with a smile (though with moistened eyes, which
she wiped every now and then) to my artless details. At length she
said,--

"Have you never heard your father speak of me,--I mean of us; of the
Trevanions?"

"Never," said I, bluntly; "and that would puzzle me, only my dear
father, you know, is not a great talker."

"Indeed! he was very animated when I knew him," said Lady Ellinor; and
she turned her head and sighed.

At this moment there entered a young lady so fresh, so blooming, so
lovely that every other thought vanished out of my head at once. She
came in singing, as gay as a bird, and seeming to my adoring sight quite
as native to the skies.

"Fanny," said Lady Ellinor, "shake hands with Mr. Caxton, the son of one
whom I have not seen since I was little older than you, but whom I
remember as if it were but yesterday."