“Had I seen you before, Kate,” continued he--and there was a touch of feeling as he spoke the name--“I do not think I could have dared to ask you to come here!” “Oh, dear uncle! have I so disappointed you?” “You have amazed me, Kate. I was not prepared to see you as you are. I speak not of your beauty, my child; I was prepared for that. It is your air, your bearing, that look, that reminds me of long, long ago. It is years since I saw a lady, my dear Kate, and the sight of you has brought up memories I had believed were dead and buried.” “Then I do not displease you, uncle?” “I am angry with myself, child. I should never have brought you to this barbarism.” “You have given me a home, Sir,” said she, fondly; but he only sighed, and she went on: “A home and a name!” “A name! Yes,” said he, proudly, “a name that well befits you, but a home--how unworthy of you! What ignorance in me not to know that you would be like this!” And again he gazed at her with intense admiration. “But see, my child, to what this life of grovelling monotony conduces. Because I had not seen you and heard your voice, I could not picture to my poor besotted mind that, besides beauty, you should have that gracefulness the world deems higher than even beauty. Nay, Kate, I am no flatterer; and, moreover, I will not speak of this again.” “I will try to make you satisfied that you did well to send for me, Sir,” said she, meekly; and her heart felt almost bursting with delight at the words of praise she had just heard. “How did you induce them to part with you?” asked he, calmly. “I gave no choice in the matter, Sir. I showed your letter to Sir Within Wardle, and he would not hear of my leaving. I tried to discuss the matter, and he only grew impatient. I hinted at what your letter had vaguely insinuated--a certain awkwardness in my position--and this made him downright angry. We parted, and I went to my room. Once alone, I took counsel with myself. The result was, that I wrote that letter which you received, and I came away the same morning I wrote it.” “Alone?” “Yes, Sir, alone.” “And without a leave-taking?” “Even so, Sir. It was the only way in which I could have come, and I had made up my mind to it.”. “Here was something of the Luttrell there!” said he, turning his eyes full upon her features, which now had caught an expression of calm and resolute meaning. “You will become the name, Kate!” “It shall be my endeavour, Sir.” “And yet,” added he, after a pause, “you were very happy there. Tell me the sort of life you used to lead.”