“It was only known on the night of papa’s funeral, Stella. I could not have married many people between then and now,” said Katherine, trying to take this speech as lightly as it was made. “That is true--still you must have had people after you. With your expectations, and a good-looking girl. You always were quite a good-looking girl, Kate.” “I am grateful for your approbation, Stella.” “Only a little stuck-up looking--and--well, not quite so young as you used to be. If I were you I would go in for that old fellow, don’t you remember, whom papa got rid of in such a hurry--the man that came over with us in the _Aurungzebe_. Somebody told me he had done very well out there, and, of course, Charlie asked him to come and see us. And you know you were his fancy, Kate; it was you, not me--don’t you remember how everybody laughed? I should go in for him now if I were you. An old affair like that is quite a nice foundation. And I hear he has done very well, and he is just a suitable age, and it doesn’t really matter that---- What is passing the window? Oh,” cried Stella, clapping her hands, “the very same old landau that I remember all my life, and Lady Jane in her war paint, just the same. Let’s prepare to receive cavalry!” she cried. With a twist of her hand she drew two chairs into position, one very low, graceful and comfortable for herself, another higher, with elbows for Lady Jane. And Stella seated herself, with her fresh crape falling about her in crisp folds, her fair face and frizzy locks coming out of its blackness with great _éclat_, and her handkerchief in her hand. It was as good as a play (she herself felt, for I doubt whether Katherine relished the scene) to see her rise slowly and then drop, as it were, as lightly as a feather, but beyond speech, into Lady Jane’s arms, who, deeply impressed by this beautiful pose, clasped her and kissed her and murmured, “My poor child; my poor, dear child!” with real tears in her eyes. “But what a comfort it must be to your mind,” Lady Jane said, when she had seated herself and was holding Stella’s hand, “to feel that there could be nothing against you in his mind--no rancour, no unkindness--only the old feeling that he loved you beyond everything; that you were still his pet, his little one, his favourite----” Lady Jane herself felt it so much that she was almost choked by a sob. “Oh, dear Lady Jane,” cried Stella, evidently gulping down her own, “if I did not feel _that_, how could I ever have endured to come to this house--to dear papa’s house--to my own old home! that I was so wicked as to run away from, and so silly, never thinking. My only consolation is, though Kate has so little, so very little, to tell me of that dreadful time, that he must have forgiven me at the last.”