"My cousin Lucy Raymond, I presume?" and seeing he was right, he added, with a nonchalant air, "Glad to see you; been waiting long?" "About a quarter of an hour," Lucy replied, thinking she was speaking the exact truth. "Hardly that," he replied. "I expected to have been here in time, but these trains are never to be depended on." Then he motioned to a cabman, who advanced and asked for the checks for the luggage. Lucy had forgotten all about them, and her cousin mentally set her down as "green," while she nervously searched for them. "Take your time," he said good-humouredly. They were found at last, and everything being collected, Lucy and her cousin were soon driving away from the station. "You are cousin Edwin, I suppose?" Lucy ventured to say timidly. "The same, at your service. I suppose Stella posted you up about us all? You've never been in a place as big as this, have you?" he said, observing her eager, watching look. "No, never; Ashleigh is hardly more than a village. How is Stella?" "Stella! Oh, she's quite well; she was out walking when I left." Lucy's heart sank at the apparent coldness of her reception. Had Stella been coming to visit _her_, she would have been watching for the steamboat for an hour before its arrival! "Left all well at home?" inquired Edwin. "Oh, I forgot; I suppose you're all broken up there now?" he added, glancing at her black dress and crape veil. "Fred's gone to college again, I suppose?" "Yes," replied Lucy. She could not have added a word more. It was all she could do to keep back the tears that started to her eyes, as the sad realization that she had no longer a home came back to her. Edwin, however, had happily exhausted his stock of conversation for the present, and Lucy did not try to renew it. After driving, as it seemed to her, an interminably long way, they stopped opposite a tall stone house, one of a row all just alike, and looking very monotonous and sombre to Lucy's eyes, accustomed to the variety of the Ashleigh houses. Light gleamed already through the hall-door, which was speedily opened; and the next moment Stella, looking as pretty as ever, rushed down the wide staircase, and met her cousin with an affectionate embrace. "Mamma, here's Lucy," she said as she led the way up the staircase. At its head stood a lady, who reminded Lucy strongly of the pictures of her dear mother, except that there was the difference of expression between a worldly and an unworldly character. Mrs. Brooke never had had--perhaps now never could have--the pure spiritual beauty which had been Mrs. Raymond's chief charm; but she was a graceful, stylish-looking woman, rather languid and unenergetic in appearance, as she was in character. Her kiss was affectionate, as she told Lucy that she was very glad to see her, and that she reminded her a little of her poor mother; "though you're much more like your papa," she added.