tall woman; and her long, brown, wrinkled, shrivelled face, with prominent cheekbones and bushy white eyebrows, betokened the possession, in earlier days, of a most masculine expression of features. Her hair, white as snow, was gathered back from her forehead, under a spreading plain white cap; and her sightless eyes, wide open, stared forward with a startling and somewhat sinister expression. She was wrapped round in a clean white bedgown; and her long thin arms lay straight before her on the outside of the bedclothes. Her lips were moving, as if she were talking to herself.

"She's a strange-looking object, indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Aubrey, as he and Dr. Tatham stood watching her for a few moments in silence.

"Dame! dame!" said the doctor, loudly, approaching her bedside, "how are you to-day? It's Christmas-dayI wish you a merry Christmas."

"Ay, ay― merry, merry!" echoed the old woman, with a half-groan. "More the merrier! I've seen a hundred

and nine of them!"

"You seem comfortable enough, dame," said Mr. Aubrey, kindly. "I hope you are?"

"They won't give me my broth peevishly.

my broth," said she,

"It's coming, granny," called out the shrill voice of the girl sitting before the fire, quickening her motions.

"Here's the squire come to see you, dame, and he wishes you a happy Christmas," said Dr. Tatham, loudly.

"What! the squire? Alive yet? Ah, well-a-day! wella-day!" said she, in a feeble, mournful tone, slowly rubbing together her long, skinny, wrinkled hands, on the backs of which the veins stood out like knotted whipcord. She repeated the last words several times, in a truly doleful tone, gently shaking her head.

66

Granny's been very sad, sir, to-day, and cried two or

three times," said the little girl, stirring about the hot broth.

"Poor squire! doth he not look sad?" inquired the old

woman.

"Why should I, dame? What have I to fear?" said Mr. Aubrey, somewhat quickly.

"Merry in the Hall! all, merry! merry! But no one has heard it except old blind Bess. Where's the squire ?" she added, suddenly turning full towards the spot where they were standing — and her face seemed whitened with emotion. Her staring eyes were settled on Mr. Aubrey's face, as if she saw him distinctly, and were reading his very soul.

"Here I am, dame," said he, with a great deal of curiosity, to say the least of it.

"Give me your hand, Squire," said she, stretching out her left arm, and working about her talon-like fingers, as if in eagerness to grasp Mr. Aubrey's hand, which he gave her.

"Never fear! never, never! Happy in the Hall! I see all! How long".

"Why, dame, this is truly a very pleasant greeting of yours," interposed Dr. Tatham, with a smile.

"Short and bitter! long and sweet! Put your trust in God, Squire."

"I hope I do, granny," replied Mr. Aubrey, seriously. "I see! I hear!-my broth! my broth!-where is it?"

"Here it is, granny," said the girl — " It's all ready!" "Good-day, dame," said Mr. Aubrey, gently disengag ing his hand from hers; and before they had left the cottage, she began to swallow very greedily the broth with which the little girl fed her.

"This is the sort of way in which this old superannuated creature has frightened one or two of".

"Is it indeed?" inquired Mr. Aubrey, with a sort of mechanical smile. Dr. Tatham saw that he was in a somewhat serious humor.

"She's alarmed you, I protest!-I protest she has!" exclaimed the doctor, with a slight laugh, as they walked along. Now, he knew the disposition and character of Aubrey intimately; and was well aware of a certain tendency which he had to superstition.

"My dear doctor, I assure you that you are mistaken-I am indeed not alarmed - but at the same time I will tell you something not a little singular. Would you believe that a month or two ago, when in town, I dreamed that I heard some one uttering something very much like the words which we have just heard from this old woman?"

"Ah! ha, ha!" laughed the doctor; and, after a second or two's pause, Aubrey, as if ashamed of what he had said, echoed the laugh, and their conversation passed on to political topics, which kept them engaged for the remainder of their walk, Mr. Aubrey quitting his companion at the door of the vicarage, to be rejoined by him at five o'clock, the dinner hour at the Hall. As Mr. Aubrey walked along the park, the shades of evening casting a deepening gloom around him, his thoughts involuntarily recurred to the cottage of old blind Bess, and he felt vague apprehensions flitting with darkening shade across his mind. Though he was hardly weak enough to attach any definite meaning or importance to the gibberish he had heard, it still had left an unpleasant impression, and he was vexed at feeling a wish that the incident - trifling as he was willing to believe it should not be mentioned by Dr. Tatham at the Hall; and still more was he excited when he recollected that he had purposely abstained from requesting the good doctor not to do so. All this undoubtedly implied that the matter had occupied Mr.

Aubrey's thoughts to a greater extent than he secretly relished. On reaching, however, the Hall door, this brief pressure on his feelings quickly ceased; for on entering, he saw Mrs. Aubrey, his sister, and his two children, at high romps together in the hall, and he heartily joined in them.

CHAPTER VIII.

By five o'clock the little party were seated at the cheerful dinner-table, glistening with the old family plate and that kind of fare, at once substantial and luxurious, which befitted the occasion. Old Mrs. Aubrey, in her simple white turban and black velvet dress, presided with a kind of dignified cheerfulness which was delightful to see. Kate had contrived to make herself look more lovely even than usual, wearing a dress of dark blue satin, tastefully trimmed with blonde, and which exquisitely comported with her beautiful complexion. Oh that Delamere had been sitting opposite to, or beside her! The more matured proportions of her blooming sister-inlaw appeared to infinite advantage in a rich green velvet dress, while a superb diamond glistened with subdued lustre in her beautiful bosom. She wore no ornaments in her dark hair, which was, as indeed might be said of Kate, "when unadorned, adorned the most." The gray-headed old butler, (as brisk as his choicest champagne,) and the two steady-looking old family servants, going about their business with quiet celerity—the delicious air of antique elegance around them the sense of profound seclusion - of remoteness from the exciting hubbub of the world in every respect this was a Christmas dinner after one's own heart! Oh the merry and dear old Yatton! And as if there were not loveliness enough already in the room, behold the door suddenly pushed open, as soon as the dessert is arrayed on the table, and run up to his gay and laughing mother, her little son, his ample snowy col