The old lady rose, and Miss Fortune, taking her chair, set it by the side of the table, next the fire. Ellen was opposite to her, and now, for the first time, the old lady seemed to know that she was in the room. She looked at her very attentively, but with an expressionless gaze which Ellen did not like to meet, though otherwise her face was calm and pleasant. "Who is that?" inquired the old lady presently of Miss Fortune, in a half whisper. "That's Morgan's daughter," was the answer. "Morgan's daughter! Has Morgan a daughter?" "Why, yes, mother; don't you remember I told you a month ago he was going to send her here?" The old lady turned again, with a half shake of her head, towards Ellen. "Morgan's daughter," she repeated to herself, softly, "she's a pretty little girl — very pretty. Will you come round here and give me a kiss, dear?" Ellen submitted. The old lady folded her in her arms, and kissed her affectionately. "That's your grandmother, Ellen," said Miss Fortune, as Ellen went back to her seat. Ellen had no words to answer. Her aunt saw her weary down- look, and soon after supper proposed to take her upstairs. Ellen gladly followed her. Miss Fortune showed her to her room, and first asking if she wanted any thing, left her to herself. It was a relief. Ellen's heart had been brimful, and ready to run over for some time, but the tears could not come then. They did not now, till she had undressed and laid her weary little body on the bed: then they broke forth in an agony. "She did not kiss me! she didn't say she was glad to see me!" thought poor Ellen. But weariness this time was too much for sorrow and disappointment. It was but a few minutes, and Ellen's brow was calm again, and her eyelids still, and, with the tears wet upon her cheeks, she was fast asleep. CHAPTER X. Mud — and what came of it.