"Remember William Ludlow! I must forget myself before I could forget him," was the doctor's answer, as he took both my hands in his and held me before him to look into my eyes. The tears were rising in his own. "A pleasant face to look at," he was pleased to say. "But they did not name him William?" "No. We call him Johnny." "One generation passes away and another rises up in its place. How few, how few of those I knew are now left to welcome me! Even poor Jacob has not stayed." Tears seemed to be the fashion just then. I turned away, when released, and saw them in Miss Lewis's eyes as she stood against the window-sill, absently playing with the white jessamine. "When they begin to speak of those who are gone, it always puts me in mind of mamma," she said in a whisper, as if she would apologize for the tears. "I can't help it." "Is it long since you lost her?" "Nearly two years; and home has not been the same to papa since. I do my best; but I am not my mother. I think it was that which made papa resolve to come to England when he found he could afford it. Home is but triste, you see, when the dearest one it contained has gone out of it." It struck me that the house could not have had one dearer in it than Anne. She was years and years older than I, but I began to wish she was my sister. And her manners to the servant were so nice--a homely country girl, named Sally, engaged by Mr. Coney. Miss Lewis told the girl that she hoped she would be happy in her new place, and that she would help her when there was much work to do. Altogether Anne Lewis was a perfect contrast to the fashionable damsels of that day, who could not make themselves appear too fine. The next day was Sunday. We had just finished breakfast, and Mrs. Todhetley was nursing her toothache, when Dr. Lewis came in, looking more shadowy than ever in his black Sunday clothes, with the deep band on his hat. They were going to service at Timberdale, and he wanted me to go with them. "Of course I have not forgotten the way to Timberdale," said he; "but there's an odd, shy feeling upon me of not liking to walk about the old place by myself. Anne is strange to it also. We shall soon get used to it, I dare say. Will you go, Johnny?" "Yes, sir." "Crabb Church is close by, Lewis," remarked the Squire, "and it's a steaming hot day." "But I must go to Timberdale this morning. It was poor Jacob's church, you know for many years. And though he is no longer there, I should like to see the desk and pulpit which he filled." "Ay, to be sure," readily acquiesced the Squire. "I'd go with you myself, Lewis, but for the heat." Dr. Lewis said he should take the roadway, not the short cut through Crabb Ravine. It was a good round, and we had to start early. I liked Anne better than ever: no one could look nicer than she did in her trim black dress. As we walked along, Dr. Lewis frequently halted to recognize old scenes, and ask me was it this place, or that.