Close to it sat a lady past middle age, yet most attractive in appearance. On her white silky hair rested a lace cap tastefully trimmed; beneath the white hair and strongly contrasted with it were dark eyes, eyebrows, and lashes, still reminding those who knew her in youth of the bright and lively Clara Marston. The soft, patient face has now lost its vivacity, but it is not the less pleasing on that account. Her hand held a stocking, but it rested on her lap, her thoughts were evidently far away.
The door opened and Dr. Halford entered, followed by his niece, who exclaimed—
"Aunt, I declare you have been mending stockings, but I mean to hide that stocking-basket out of your sight; and now you are to make yourself comfortable in your easy-chair while I pour out the tea."
Mrs. Halford smiled, but she submitted quietly to her niece's injunctions, gave up the stocking which she took from her passive hand, and then drew her aunt's chair nearer to the table.
Happy as they appeared, Mrs. Halford could scarcely, even after the lapse of ten years, repress a sigh as she saw her niece take her absent daughter's place.
Perhaps she felt thankful at not being able to trace a likeness in her brother's daughter to her own Fanny, who in features, eyes, and hair so much resembled herself. But in truth Kate Marston was a great comfort to her aunt and uncle. Plain and homely, with a fair skin and rosy cheeks that betokened her north-country origin, she was yet active, methodical, and industrious—a daughter in loving attention to her aunt and uncle, and at all times good-tempered and cheerful.
"Uncle," she said presently, "you need not hide your letter, I saw the postman give you one this afternoon."
Mrs. Halford looked up quickly. "Is it from Dr. Mason?" she asked.
"Well, yes, it is," he replied. "I wanted to wait till we had finished tea, but Katey is impatient, so I suppose I must read it at once."
"Yes, uncle, of course you must; I saw the postmark when you took it in, so no wonder I am impatient."