“You are very kind. They seem like a ray of sunshine after a cold and dismal storm,” she said, bending over them to inhale their fragrancy. “Humph! it takes mighty little to make some people chipper,” the old woman returned bluntly; yet there was a note of satisfaction in her shrill voice, as if Brownie’s appreciation pleased her. Then she asked: “Are you getting stronger? Are you able to walk about the room?” “Oh, yes; I am quite strong to-day, and have been thinking I must go away soon.” “What for? Aren’t you comfortable?” and the old lady spoke more sharply than usual. “Yes, indeed; too comfortable, I’m afraid. But, then, I am depending on strangers, and I ought to be looking out for myself,” Brownie said, her cheeks crimsoning with embarrassment. “Ahem! you’d like me to think you are one of the industrious kind, wouldn’t you?” the old woman said, grimly. Evidently she did not like anything which seemed like self-praise. “Oh, no,” Brownie answered, with a mischievous smile; “I assure you I do not love drudgery a bit better than other people; but when one has not a penny excepting what one earns, it is necessary to bestir one’s self.” “Well, if you want to work, and can walk a few steps, come with me. I’ll take you at your word, and set you a task right away,” said the old creature. Much amused, and wondering what was coming next, Brownie arose with alacrity, for she had grown weary of being shut up in one room, and longed for a change. The old woman led the way half across the room, then stopping short and turning suddenly around, she said: “Perhaps you’d like to know who I am, since I’ve managed to find out so much about you and your affairs. I’m Lady Ruxley, and I’m aunt to Lady Randal, in whose house you are. She’s a hard-hearted creature—Helen is, but she can’t come it over me; no, no, not until I lose more of my wits than I have yet,” she concluded, with a triumphant chuckle. Lady Ruxley! Lady Ruxley! Where had she heard that name before, Brownie wondered. It sounded familiar, and her thoughts went leaping back into the past. Then all at once it came to her with a force which made her feel faint and sick, and she caught her breath with almost a sob. Lady Ruxley was that woman at whose ball in London, more than forty years ago, that tragedy in her aunt’s life had occurred, and Lady Randal was, without a doubt, the hard-hearted Helen, and that same Helen Capel whose cruel plotting and intrigue had ruined the life of Miss Mehetabel Douglas. And she had been receiving, and was still receiving, such heavy obligations from the hands of that wicked woman! CHAPTER XXV A LITTLE MATTER OF BUSINESS “What’s the matter? You are not strong enough to walk! Go back and sit down,” commanded Lady Ruxley, as she saw the young girl first flush a deep crimson, and then grow white as a ghost. But she quickly recovered herself.