How could she have borne to have seen a pained, anxious look--such a look as was once familiar to them--in those dear eyes, as they closed forever on this mortal scene! Oh, thank God for the heavenly security of those last days whatever the price she had paid for them! Motherless, she was utterly desolate. It would be long, long before she could find any one to fill her mother's place, if she ever did. For the present she was satisfied to stay with Miss Payne, but she did not think she could ever love her. The idea of residing with Colonel Ormonde and his wife was distasteful. The most attractive scheme was to beg her little nephews from their mother, and take them to live with her. She was almost of age, and _felt_ old enough to set up for herself. As she pondered on these things she felt bitterly that, rich or poor, a homeless woman is a wretched creature. At last she went to bed, and lay for a while watching the fire-light as it cast flickering shadows, thinking of the tender, watchful love which had dropped away out of her life; and with the murmured words, "Dear, dear mother!" on her lips she fell asleep. The next day broke bright and clear, though cold, and having kept Katherine at home all day, Mrs. Ormonde made her appearance in time for afternoon tea. "My dear, dearest Katherine!" cried the little woman, fluttering in, all fur and feathers, in the richest and most becoming morning toilette, looking prettier and younger than ever, "I am _so_ delighted to see you once more! Why have you staid in town, instead of coming straight to us?" and she embraced her tall sister-in-law effusively. Katherine returned her embrace. For a moment or two she could not command her voice; the sight of the known childish face, the sound of the shrill familiar voice, brought a flood of sudden sorrow over her heart; but Mrs. Ormonde was not the sort of woman to whom she could express it. "And _I_ am very glad to see _you_, Ada! How well you are looking--even younger and fairer than you used!" "Yes, I am uncommonly well; and you, dear, you are looking pale and ill and older! You will forgive me, but I am quite distressed. You must come down to Castleford at once." "Thank you. Where are the boys? I hoped you would bring them." "Oh, Colonel Ormonde thought they would be too troublesome for me in a hotel, so I left them behind. They were awfully disappointed, poor dears; but it is better _you_ should come down and see them. Cecil is going to school after Easter, and I believe Charlie must go soon." "I long to see them," said Katherine, assisting her visitor to take off her cloak. "And _I_ long to show you my new little boy," cried Mrs. Ormonde, drawing a chair to the fire, and putting her small, daintily shod feet on the fender. "He is a splendid child, amazingly forward for six months." "I am glad you are so happy, Ada; I shall be pleased to make the acquaintance of my new nephew. I suppose I may consider him a sort of nephew?"