you please, and as much of the house as you find convenient."

A cold "thank you" fell from Mima's lips, but then she went on,
hesitatingly, "I should like to come sometimes to the hill, out there
behind the orchard." Her voice choked, but she went bravely on, "Some
of my dear ones are buried there."

"Go there, and elsewhere, as much as you please. That spot shall be
sacred from invasion."

"You are very kind," she said and rose to go. Mammy carried away the
tea things, and then came and waited silently by the door.

"I hope you will believe me, Miss Harrison," said Bartley, as Mima
was starting, "when I say that I do not come to your home as a vandal
to destroy all that makes its recollection dear to you; for there are
some associations about it that are almost as much to me as to you,
since my eyes have been opened."

"I do not understand you," she replied.

"I can explain. For some years past my father's condition has kept me
very closely bound to him, and both before and after the beginning of
the war, we lived abroad. A few years ago, I came to know and love a
man, who I am convinced now was your brother. Am I mistaken in
thinking that you are a sister of Philip Harrison?"

"No, no, he was my brother, my only brother."

"I met him in Venice just before the war and we came to be dear