“Earl’s-hall!” said both the ladies together. “And, dear me, Margaret, where has this come from?” said Mrs. Bellingham; “Ludovic had no picture like this. It is beautifully mounted, and quite fresh and new; it must be just finished. It is very pretty. There is the terrace in the tower, you can just make it out--and there are the windows of the long room; and there, I declare, is my room, just a corner of it, and somebody sitting at the door--why, it is something like Bell! Who can have sent you such a beautiful present, Margaret? Who can it be from?” Margaret gained a little time while her sister spoke; but she was almost too much agitated to be able to say anything, and she did not know what to say. “It was a friend,” she said, with trembling lips. “It was done--before-- It was not finished.” And then, taking courage from desperation, she added, “May I take it up-stairs?” What so natural as that she should be overwhelmed by the sudden sight of her old home? Grace rushed to her with open arms. “Let me carry it for you; let me go with you, darling Margaret,” she said. But the girl fled from her, almost pushing her away in the nervous impatience of agitation. Even Jean was moved. She called back her sister imperatively, yet with a softened voice. “Let her alone; let her carry it herself. Come here, Grace, and let the child alone,” said Mrs. Bellingham. “The sight of the old place has been too much for her, coming so suddenly--and not much wonder. After all, it is but four months. But I should like to know who did it, and who sent it,” she added. That was the thought that was foremost with Aubrey too. CHAPTER XXXIV.