I found my niece but little altered, considering the number of years which had elapsed since I had last seen her; her children were a fine, blooming set of boys and girls, whilst her husband, both in appearance and manners, far exceeded my expectations. For it so happened that I had not seen Sir Harry Trevor before, my niece’s marriage having taken place during my absence from England; but Justina had never ceased to correspond with me, and from her letters I knew that the union had been as happy as it was prosperous. But now that I met him I was more than pleased, and voted his wife a most fortunate woman. Of unusual height and muscular build, Sir Harry Trevor possessed one of those fair, frank Saxon faces which look as if their owners had never known trouble. His bright blue eyes shone with careless mirth and his yellow beard curled about a mouth ever ready to smile in unison with the outstretching of his friendly hand. He was a specimen of a free, manly, and contented Englishman, who had everything he could desire in this world, and was thankful for it. As for Justina, she seemed perfectly to adore him; her eyes followed his figure wherever it moved; she hung upon his words, and refused to stir from home, even to take a drive or walk, unless he were by her side. “I must congratulate you upon your husband,” I said to her, as we sat together on the second day of my visit. “I think he is one of the finest fellows I ever came across, and seems as good as he is handsome.” “Ah, he is, indeed!” she replied, with ready enthusiasm; “and you have seen the least part of him, uncle. It would be impossible for me to tell you how good he is in all things. We have been married now for more than ten years, and during that time I have never had an unkind word from him, nor do I believe he has ever kept a thought from me. He is as open as the day, and could not keep a secret if he tried. Dear fellow!” and something very like a tear twinkled in the wife’s eyes. “Ay, ay,” I replied, “that’s right. I don’t know much about matrimony, my dear, but if man and wife never have a secret from one another they can’t go far wrong. And now perhaps you will enlighten me a little about these guests of yours, for there is such a number of them that I feel quite confused.” Justina passed her hand across her eyes and laughed. “Yes, that is dear Harry’s whim. He will fill the house at Christmas from top to basement, and I let him have his way, though all my visitors are not of my own choosing. With whom shall I commence, uncle?” We were sitting on a sofa together during the half hour before dinner, and one by one the guests, amounting perhaps to fifteen or twenty, came lounging into the drawing-room. “Who, then, is that very handsome woman with the scarlet flower in her hair?”