XII.


The days passed on, and no new event occurred in this little history. It
came to be summer,--balmy and green,--and everything around the old house
was delightful, and its beautiful rooms became more pleasant than ever in
the long days and soft brief nights. Fears of the earl's return and of
the possible end of the Turners' tenancy began to disturb the household,
but no one so much as Mary, who felt herself to cling as she had never
done before to the old house. She had never got over the impression that
a secret presence, revealed to no one else, was continually near her,
though she saw no one. And her health was greatly affected by this
visionary double life.

This was the state of affairs on a certain soft wet day when the family
were all within doors. Connie had exhausted all her means of amusement
in the morning. When the afternoon came, with its long, dull, uneventful
hours, she had nothing better to do than to fling herself upon Miss
Vivian, upon whom she had a special claim. She came to Mary's room,
disturbing the strange quietude of that place, and amused herself looking
over all the trinkets and ornaments that were to be found there, all of
which were associated to Mary with her godmother. Connie tried on the
bracelets and brooches which Mary in her deep mourning had not worn, and
asked a hundred questions. The answer which had to be so often repeated,
"That was given to me by my godmother," at last called forth the child's
remark, "How fond your godmother must have been of you, Miss Vivian! She
seems to have given you everything--"

"Everything!" cried Mary, with a full heart.