"I hope, I _pray_, that _your_ life may be a happy one."

"Why, Uncle Walter, how solemn you have grown all at once!" cried the
young girl, looking up at him with a smile half startled, half gay, "One
would think you were giving me some sacred charge that is to affect all
my future life, instead of this lovely mirror that has such a charming
and romantic history. I wish," she went on, thoughtfully, "you would tell
me just how you came to have it. Did it descend to you from your father's
or your mother's ancestors?"

The man sat down again before he replied, and turned his face slightly
away from her gaze as he said:

"It really belonged to your mother, dear, instead of to me, for it has
always been given to the eldest daughter on the mother's side; so, after
your mother died, I treasured it to give to you when you should be old
enough to appreciate it."

"I wish you would tell me more about my mother, Uncle Walter," the young
girl said, wistfully, after a moment of silence. "You have never seemed
willing to talk about her--you have always evaded and put me off when I
asked you anything, until I have grown to feel as if there were some
mystery connected with her. But surely I am old enough now, and have a
right to know her history. Was she your only sister, and how did it
happen that she died all alone in London? Where was my father? and why
was she left so poor when you had so much? Really, Uncle Walter, I think
I ought to insist upon being told all there is to know about my parents
and myself. You have often said you would tell me some time; why not
now?"