"Aye, aye; is that so? Well, he could not have left me a more charming substitute," replied the lawyer, with a touch of old-fashioned gallantry. "And how is Missy?"--it was the term he had always applied to Hermia when she was a schoolgirl--"quite well and hearty, I trust." "Quite well, sir, I am happy to say. But probably you would like to see her." "For a couple of minutes, if you have no objection, dear madam. I will not detain her long." It had been the practice for Mr. Hodgson to dine at Nairn Cottage on each recurring annual visit, but John being away, it seemed to Miss Brancker out of the question that he should do so in the present instance. She had not, however, forgotten her visitor's fondness for old port, and a decanter of it, together with a plate of biscuits, was now brought in; whereupon, in obedience to his hostess's request, the old gentleman, nothing loth, proceeded to pour out for himself a glass of wine. Then Miss Brancker rang the bell again, and a few seconds later Hermia, who had been expecting the summons, entered the room. A faint flush suffused her cheeks, but her manner was perfectly cool and composed. Mr. Hodgson stood up and extended a withered hand, and peered at her through his gold-rimmed spectacles. "Well, my dear, I trust that I see you in perfect health," he began; "but, indeed, you cannot be otherwise, if eyes and cheeks may be believed, and I am not aware that they are in the habit of telling untruths. Upon my word, you are vastly improved--you may allow an old man to say so without offence--vastly improved since I saw you last." Hermia murmured something, withdrew her hand, and sat down a little distance away. Then there followed a little conversation, chiefly about the weather and such-like indifferent topics, in which Hermia took no part, while Mr. Hodgson indulged in occasional appreciative sips at his wine. Now that Hermia had been told the object of his yearly visits, she could not help regarding him with a certain amount of curiosity and interest. In the brain behind that withered mask of a face lay hidden the secret of her birth and parentage; those pinched lips, had they but so willed, could doubtless have told her something about the mother of whom she retained no faintest recollection, if it were only her name and whether she was living or dead. But no question on the subject should ever escape her; the knowledge must come to her unsought if it were ever to come at all. Presently a timid ring at the front door made itself heard. "It is Mrs. Nokes," said Aunt Charlotte to Hermia. "Will you attend to her, dear?" Mrs. Nokes was one of Miss Brancker's weekly pensioners. Hermia was glad of an excuse for escaping from the room. "There is one circumstance," Mr. Hodgson, "which it may, perhaps, be as well to mention to you," said Miss Brancker, as soon as they were alone. "Hermia is engaged to be married."