"Oh, you're her daughter; yes, of course I might have known it. And so she
married him, her father's friend and so many years older."

The words were spoken as if to herself and she finished with a deep drawn
sigh.

This woman had loved Travilla--all unsuspected by him, for he was not a
conceited man--and there had been a time when she would have almost given
her hopes of heaven for a return of her affection.

"Is it my mother you mean? did you know her when she was a little girl?"
asked Elsie, rising and drawing near the woman's chair.

"Yes; if she was Elsie Dinsmore, and lived at Roselands--how many years
ago? let me see; it was a good many; long before I was married to John
Gibson."

"That was mamma's name and that was where she lived; with her grandpa,
while her papa was away in Europe so many years," returned the little
Elsie; then asked with eager interest, "But how did you happen to know
her? did you live near Roselands?"

"I lived there; but I was a person of no consequence; only a poor
governess," remarked the woman in a bitter tone; an expression of angry
discontent settling down upon her features.

"Are you Miss Day?" asked Elsie, retreating a step or two with a look as
if she had seen a serpent.