"Yes," he answered hesitatingly; "but how is it, Mrs. Gillett, that I never met her or Miss Dalzell here before?" Alas! the man was in old familiar scenes, forgetting that eight long dreary years of exile had been his. "Why, you see, Master Miles--and lauk, if I a'n't forgettin' too, calling you Master--well, never mind, it's more homely: Miss Minnie will be only seventeen come next month, and eight years have gone by since----" "True, true!" he hastily answered, interrupting her, "and Miss Dalzell was then but a little child"--he sighed, that man of eight-and-twenty felt so old. "And Miss Minnie was seldom at home then. She lived almost entirely with Lady Ripley, for her ladyship's child's sake; but you must have seen her, too, Master Miles." "Yes," he said thoughtfully; "I now recall, at times, a pretty little fairy thing flitting about the grounds and gardens when I came home; for _then_ my first visit was ever here, to see you Mrs. Gillett, and good, kind Miss Dorcas, and to teaze your master and Miss Sylvia with my wilful spirits." "Lauk, yes!" said she sadly; and the memory of all brought the joyous boy in so much bitter comparison with the outcast, saddened man, that Mrs. Gillett, kind at heart, began to cry. "Come, come!" he said kindly taking her hand; "don't be sorrowful. I thank you for those evidences that I am not forgotten by all." "Oh, not by me, Master Miles; but I've a hard card to play here amongst 'em all, and that hardens the heart--for they all want the same thing. They all wish Miss Minnie to marry some one of their own choosing, and, as I say, she can't be a bigamy, and marry all, so there's no use wurrittin' her about it so." "And does she not love any one?" "Law bless you, no--not one more than t'other; my belief is, she likes her black mare 'Jet' better nor any of them."