His arm was round her neck, and he drew her down until his lips touched hers. And Agnes suffered it. She could not return the kiss, but she did not turn away from him, and she let him caress her hair, and wind it around his fingers, whispering: “This is like Sarah’s, and you are Sarah, are you not?” “Yes, I am Sarah,” she answered, while the smile so painful to see again broke over his face as he told how much he had missed her, and asked, “if she had not come to stay till he died.” “There’s something wrong,” he said; “somebody is dead, and it seems as if somebody else wanted to die—as if Maddy died ever since the Lord Governor went away. Do you know Governor Guy?” “I am his step-mother,” Agnes replied, whereupon Uncle Joseph laughed so long and loud that Maddy woke, and, alarmed by the noise, came down to see what was the matter. Agnes did not hear her, and as she reached the doorway, she started at the strange position of the parties—Uncle Joseph still smoothing the curls which drooped over him, and Agnes saying to him: “You heard his name was Remington, did you not?—James Remington?” Like a sudden revelation it came upon Maddy, and she turned to leave, when Agnes, lifting her head, called her to come in. She did so, and standing upon the opposite side, said, questioningly: “You are Sarah Morris?” For a moment the eyelids quivered, then the neck arched proudly, as if it were a thing of which she was not ashamed, and Agnes answered: “Yes, I _was_ Sarah Agnes Morris; once, when a mere child, I was for three months your grandmother’s hired girl, and afterwards adopted by a lady who gave me what education I possess, together with that taste for high life which prompted me to jilt your Uncle Joseph when a richer man than he offered himself to me.” That was all she said—all that Maddy ever knew of her history, as it was never referred to again, except that evening, when Agnes said to her, pleadingly: “Neither Guy nor Jessie, nor any one, need know what I have told you.”