had been much beloved.

"My sister is in the drawing-room; you must excuse me if I say I am
in a great hurry," and then he passed on with a bow. I thought him
very formidable, the sort of man who would be feared as well as
respected by his dependants. He had the character of being a very
reserved man, with a great many acquaintances and few intimate
friends. I had no idea at that time that no one understood him so
well as Uncle Geoffrey.

I was decidedly nervous when I followed Uncle Geoffrey meekly into
the drawing-room. Its size and splendor did not diminish my fears,
and I little imagined then how I should get to love that room.

It was a little low, in spite of its spaciousness, and its three
long windows opened in French fashion on to the garden. I had a
glimpse of the lawn, with a grand old cedar in the middle, before my
eyes were attracted to a lady in deep mourning, writing in a little
alcove, half curtained off from the rest of the room, and looking
decidedly cozy.

The moment she turned her face toward us at the mention of our
names, my unpleasant feelings of nervousness vanished. She was such a
little woman--slightly deformed, too--with a pale, sickly-looking
face, and large, clear eyes, that seemed to attract sympathy at once,
for they seemed to say to one, "I am only a timid, simple little
creature. You need not be afraid of me."

I was not very tall, but I almost looked down on her as she gave me
her hand.