Except---- She did not say to herself what it was; or if she did she called it by other names. Something to do--something to interest her--a little society in the midst of her solitude. She did not say, I am happy because he is coming. A girl must have gone a long way on that path before she will say as much to herself; but a sense that he was coming seemed to be in the air--the sunshine was brighter for it, the morning was sweeter, all kinds of lovely lights and gleams of life and movement were upon the park--the very scene which yesterday had been so unbearably still and motionless. The hours did not seem long till he came, but glided past with the softest harmony. She rather felt disposed to dwell upon them--to lengthen them out--for were they not all threaded through with that thread of expectation which made their stillness rosy? It fretted her a little to have this enchanted quiet broken by Mrs. Murray, though she came according to an appointment which Clare had forgotten. The girl’s brow clouded over with impatience when this visitor was announced to her. “Yes, I remember,” she said sharply to Wilkins. “Let her come upstairs. I told her to come.” But it was a little relief to Clare’s mind to find that her visitor was alone, which supplied her at once with a legitimate cause of offence. “You have not brought Jeanie with you?” she said. “Is she ill, or what is the matter? I so particularly wished her to come!” “I had a reason for no bringing her; and in case it should be made known to you after, and look like a falseness, I have come to tell you, Miss Arden,” said Mrs. Murray. “Your house, no doubt, is full of pictures of your father. It is but right. I saw one down the stair as I came in at the door----” “And what then? What has papa’s picture to do with it?” asked Clare in amaze. “You would think, little enough, Miss Arden,” said Mrs. Murray. “That is just what I have to tell you. Ye’ll mind that my cousin Thomas Perfitt has been long in the service of your house. And Jeanie has seen your father, and it made her heart sore--” “Seen my father!” said Clare, with wonder, which was not so great as her visitor expected. “I did not know you had been here before.” “We were never here before. Where we saw your father was at Loch Arroch in our own place. I knew him before you were born, Miss Arden--when I was--no to say young, but younger than I am now; and your mother, poor lady, too----” This she said sinking her voice, so that Clare with difficulty made it out. “My mother, too!” she cried, “how strange, how very strange, you should never have told me this before!”