She lay in the four-poster, shut in from distracting sounds and sights by the curtains. Could Lucy have been so bold as to peer between them, many a strange expression flitting across the old face would not only have astonished, but startled her. For her great-grandmother could hate and love with a mighty passion. Sometimes she bore a strange likeness to herself as she had looked when she bade Joel good-bye, and he slipped out of the wool-barn into the dark night. She had been tall and fair in those days--like Barbara--but with a jewel glittering in each eye. Or, again, her face might reflect that look of misery with which she had watched his dead body being carried past the farm on a spruce-bough early the next morning. Or her expression might change to one that recalled her hatred of David Lynn, her husband, when he had stood by and commended the soldiers for their deed of blood. From that day to this, though he had long been laid in his grave, she thought of him with aversion. She had spurned her children, and her children's children, because they took after him in looks and character. Not till Barbara was born, and another Joel Hart bore the form and features of his ill-fated grandfather, did her heart warm again to human affection. She remembered that to-day was Joel's birthday. It was one more coincidence, which led her to regard Midsummer's Day with superstition. She looked upon the young man as a message from the other world, and she gave him her blessing. When she died, her wealth was to be divided between him and her great-grandchildren. She knew that he was hard-up now, but money had grown so dear to her, that she could not part with it till she must, even for a lost love's sake. By tortuous paths the human soul travels away from the generous impulses of youth, and reaches, in old age, a place where it had never thought to be! To-day her memory had been acute, and she had suffered. She felt that she had been consorting with the living and not the dead--though they had died long ago; three-score years and ten were wiped out. Pulling back the curtains, she called to Lucy. "Go down to Forest Hall and tell Joel I want him," she said. "He's but now gone up the dale with Timothy Hadwin," replied Lucy. "Keep a watch for him returning and bring him in. It's a long while since he came to Greystones to see the old woman, though, doubtless," she peered into the girl's face, "doubtless he's often been at the bridge philandering with a young one." "Indeed, no, you're mistaken, great-granny." * * * * * It was evening when Joel came, bringing with him half a dozen trout strung on a withy. He found Mistress Lynn in a talkative mood; he caught a glimpse of the white flesh of her youth peeping out from under the hard old mail of age.