"Not to me: though there exists enough of it between us to betray that we are mother and daughter. To him--her father." And, while Abel was looking at the girl, I looked. And in that moment it struck me that her face bore a remarkable likeness to his own. The features were of the same high-bred cast, pure and refined; you might have said they were made in the same mould. "I see; yes," said Abel. "He has been gone, too, this many a year; as you, perhaps, may know, Abel; and is with the rest, waiting for us in the spirit-land. Kettie does not remember him, it is so long ago. There are only she and I left to go now. Kettie----" She suddenly changed her language to one I did not understand. Neither, as was easy to be seen, did Abel Carew. Whether it was Hebrew, or Egyptian, or any other rare tongue, I knew not; but I had never in my life heard its sounds before. "I am telling Kettie that in you she may see what her father was--for the likeness in your face and his, allowing for the difference of age, is great." "Does Kettie not speak English?" inquired Abel. "Oh yes, I speak it," answered the girl, slightly smiling, and her tones were soft and perfect as those of her mother. "And where have you been since his death, Ketira? Stationary in Ai----" He dropped his voice to a whisper at the last word, and I did not catch it. I suppose he did not intend me to. "Not stationary for long anywhere," she answered, passing into the cottage with a majestic step. I lifted my hat to the women--who, for all their gipsy dress and origin, seemed to command consideration--and made off. The arrival of these curious people caused some commotion at Church Dykely. It was so rare we had any event to enliven us. They took up their abode in a lonely cottage no better than a hut (one room up and one down) that stood within that lively place, the wilderness on the outskirts of Chanasse Grange; and there they stayed. How they got a living nobody knew: some thought the gipsy must have an income, others that Abel helped them. "She was very handsome in her youth," he said to me one day, as if he wished to give some explanation of the arrival I had chanced to witness. "Handsomer and finer by far than her daughter is; and one who was very near of kin to me married her--_would_ marry her. She was a born gipsy, of what is called a high-caste tribe."