asserted), as he turned away, evidently in sorrow:

"I am the brother of Mrs. Monfort, once Constance Glen--now, as you tell
me, no more. What children did she leave?"

"One only--a daughter," was Evelyn's reply. "Not visible to-day,
however, since she was severely burned a few days since, and is still
confined to her bed; not dangerously ill, though."

"I passed on then, as quickly as I could," said Evelyn, "for I saw no
end to questioning, and had an appointment to keep. I said, however,
civilly, 'Suppose you call another time, when papa is disengaged. To-day
he could not possibly receive you,' pausing on the steps for a reply.
This was of course all that was required of me, but he merely lifted his
hat with a cool 'Thank you, Miss Monfort,' and went his way silently. He
evidently mistook me for you, Miriam, and I did not undeceive him. My
greatest oversight was in forgetting to ask for his card; but his name
was Glen, of course, as hers was, so it would have been a mere form."

"The whole transaction seems to have been inconsiderate on your part,
Evelyn," I remarked, as mildly as I could. "Mamma's brother! Oh, what
would I not have given to have seen him! Did he never return, and where
is he now?"

"No, never that I know of, and he has disappeared. He walked by here a
few days later, Franklin says, when he was standing at the door with
papa's tilbury, still very poorly dressed, but neither stopped nor
spoke. You could not have seen him in your condition, at any rate,
Miriam, so you need not look so vexed; and I had no idea of having papa
annoyed so soon after his severe attack. Besides, I want no such claims