"My daughter Gertrude promises herself much pleasure in your society, Miss Earl; for uncle's praises prepare her to expect a most charming companion. She is about your age, but I fear you will find great disparity in her attainments, as she has not been so fortunate as to receive her education from Uncle Allan. You are, I believe, an adopted daughter of Mrs. Murray?" "No, madam; only a resident in her house until my education is pronounced sufficiently advanced to justify my teaching." "I have a friend, Miss Harding, who has recently removed to Le Bocage, and intends making it her home. How is she?" "Quite well, I believe." Mr. Hammond left the study for a moment, and Mrs. Powell added: "Her friends at the North tell me that she is to marry her cousin, Mr. Murray, very soon." "I had not heard the report." "Then you think there are no grounds for the rumor?" "Indeed, madam, I know nothing whatever concerning the matter." "Estelle is handsome and brilliant." Edna made no reply; and, after waiting a few seconds, Mrs. Powell asked: "Does Mr. Murray go much into society now?" "I believe not." "Is he as handsome as ever?" "I do not know when you saw him last, but the ladies here seem rather to dread than admire him. Mrs. Powell, you are dipping your sleeve in your uncle's inkstand." She by no means relished this catechism, and resolved to end it. Picking up her books, she said to Mr. Hammond, who now stood in the door: "I presume I need not wait, as you will be too much occupied to-day to attend to my lessons." "Yes; I must give you holiday until Monday." "Miss Earl, may I trouble you to hand this letter to Miss Harding? It was entrusted to my care by one of her friends in New York. Pray be so good as to deliver it, with my kindest regards." As Edna left the house, the pastor took his hat from the rack in the hall, and walked silently beside her until she reached the gate. "Mr. Hammond, your niece is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." He sighed heavily, and answered, hesitatingly: "Yes, yes. She is more beautiful now than when she first grew up." "How long has she been a widow?" "Not quite a year." The troubled expression settled once more over his placid face, and when Edna bade him good-morning, and had walked some distance, she happened to look back, and saw him still leaning on the little gate under the drooping honeysuckle tendrils, with his gray head bent down on his hand. That Mrs. Powell was in some way connected with Mr. Murray's estrangement from the minister Edna felt sure, and the curiosity which the inquiries of the former had betrayed, told her that she must be guarded in her intercourse with a woman who was an object of distrust even to her own uncle.