upon the table. She was tall, very slender, and with a face which a
painter might have used to personify the spiritual life. Its
outlines were of severe perfection; its expression a confirmed
grief, subdued by, and made subordinate to, the consciousness of an
inward strength which could convert suffering into triumph. Her
garment was black, of the simplest possible design. In looking at
Maud, as the child rose from the chair, it was scarcely affection
that her eyes expressed, rather a grave compassion. Maud took a seat
at the table without speaking; her aunt sat down over against her.
In perfect silence they partook of the milk and the bread. Miss
Bygrave then cleared the table with her own hands, and took the
things out of the room. Maud still kept her place. The child's
manner was not at all constrained; she was evidently behaving in her
wonted way. Her eyes wandered about the room with rather a dreamy
gaze, and, as often as they fell upon her aunt's face, became very
serious, though in no degree expressive of fear or even awe.

Miss Bygrave returned, and seated herself near the little girl; then
remained thoughtful for some minutes. The breath from their lips was
plainly visible on the air. Maud almost shivered now and then, but
forced herself to suppress the impulse. Her aunt presently broke the
silence, speaking m a low voice, which had nothing of tenderness,
but was most impressive in its earnest calm.

"I wish to speak to you before you go upstairs, Maud; to speak of
things which you cannot understand fully as yet, but which you are
old enough to begin to think about."

Maud was surprised. It was the first time that her aunt had ever
addressed her in this serious way. She was used to being all but