"Well, I am glad to hear it, for now I shall go to him instead of writing," concluded Edina. "In these cases a personal application is generally of more use than a written one. And, Mary, you will, at any rate, wish me God speed." "With my whole heart," replied Mrs. Raynor. Once mere Edina Raynor stood before the gates of Eagles' Nest. As she walked from the station, the great alteration in the place struck her. Not in Eagles' Nest itself: that looked the same as ever: but in its surroundings. The land was well-cared for and flourishing; the cottages had been renovated into decent and healthy tenements; the row of ugly skeletons had been completed; all were filled with contented inhabitants; and the men and women that Edina saw about as she passed, looked respectable and happy. None could look on the estate of Eagles' Nest as it was now, and not see how good and wise was its ruler. "Is Mr. Atkinson at home?" asked Edina, as a servant whom she did not know answered her ring. "He is at home, ma'am, but I do not think you can see him," was the answer. "Mr. Atkinson is very unwell, and does not see visitors." "I think he will perhaps see me," said Edina. And she took a leaf from her pocket-book, and wrote down her name, adding that she wished to see him very much. The man showed her to a room. He came back immediately, and ushered her into his master's presence. As she entered, George Atkinson rose from a sofa on which he had been lying near the window, and went forward to meet her. "Edina!" The old familiar name from the once loved lips--nay, perhaps loved still: who knew?--in the old familiar voice, brought a tremor to her heart and a tear to her eye. Mr. Atkinson handed her to a chair and sat down in another. The window stood open to the delicious summer air, the morning sunshine--for Edina had come early, and it was not yet much past eleven--to the charming landscape that lay stretched around in the distance. But the impulse that had prompted the warm greeting seemed to die away again, and he addressed her more coldly and calmly. "Your coming here this morning seems to me to be a very singular coincidence. You see that letter on the table, just ready for the post: have the kindness to read the address." Edina did so. It bore her own name: and was addressed to the "Care of Charles Raynor, Messrs. Prestleigh and Preen's." "I did not know your address. That it was somewhere in or near London, I did know, but not the exact locality. The letter contains only a request that you would kindly come down to me here." "I!" exclaimed Edina. "Yes. I wanted to see you. But I will ring for my housekeeper to show you to a room where you can take your bonnet off. "I have not come to remain," replied Edina. "Half-an-hour will be more than enough to transact my business with you.