Altogether, it was a most exciting afternoon, and Miss Lucretia came home with a springing step, and radiant eyes, and a general bearing of youthfulness, such as she had not known for the last twenty years. A bright golden glow had suddenly overspread the grey landscape of her life, such as the sun sometimes throws at sunset, when it looks out from under a cloud at the end of a long grey day. Before the post went out, she wrote a letter to Constantia, announcing her intention of taking Amy for her own, which gave a delightful seal of finality to her decision. II. "I could not have believed that Lucretia would be so foolish. Just fancy! she wants to adopt Amy!" was Mrs. Dalrymple's comment, as she read her sister's letter; and everyone at the breakfast table exclaimed. "It is a very generous idea," remarked Mr. Dalrymple mildly. He had always been a mild sort of man, and marriage with Constantia had not made him less so. "Generous! yes. Lucretia is always generous. You know the difficulty I had in stopping her giving expensive presents to the children; but it is so very foolish. I shall write her a letter, of course, and tell her that we intend to have Amy ourselves. Poor Lucretia! Fancy her with the charge of a child!" So Constantia wrote her letter. It contained about a quarter of the words that Lucretia had used, and was very sensible, kind and decided. There was no answer required to it. Great was Mrs. Dalrymple's surprise, therefore, when by return of post came a reply, not of acquiescence, but setting forth the other aunt's superior claim as godmother, an idea which, as Constantia remarked, was simply absurd. "I shall have to go to Thirlambury myself," she said: "though it is not very convenient." It was often not very convenient to go to Thirlambury. [Illustration: Then she divulged her great project to Fanny. H V Brock] In the meantime, Miss Lucretia had been indulging in her new day-dream, till every bit of her life had been remodelled in anticipation, and brought into harmony with her coming work and responsibility as an adopted mother. Already she attached to herself that beautiful title, the missing of which had been the sole sorrow of her life. As a young girl, Lucretia's day-dreams had not been of lovers, but of marriage; the joys of children clinging round her neck, the merry voices about the house, the little feet pattering up and down. And now she counted the days to the one coming so near, when she should feel the real warm arms of little Amy clasped round "godmamma's" neck, and fold the child in her own with the new wonderful joy of possession. She felt that she could hold up her head again among women, and that the life which a week ago had seemed to hold nothing more except advancing infirmities was full of new possibilities and ever-increasing interest. Miss Lucretia lived again.