long time to give to her survey of this room, for in a few minutes she
heard the rustle of a dress, and, turning, she saw a woman approaching
who was evidently the housekeeper.

Edith was prepared to see some woman who might be in keeping with these
desolate surroundings and with the ruffian porter at the gate--some
coarse, insolent female; and she had also prepared herself to encounter
any rudeness with fortitude. But the first sight of Mrs. Dunbar was
enough to show her that her anticipations were completely unfounded.

She was a woman might have been about fifty, and even older. The outline
of her features showed marks of former beauty and the general air of her
face was altogether above the rank of a household domestic. The
expression was one of calm, strong self-control, of dignity, and of
resolution; at the same time there was in her dark, earnest eyes a
certain vigilant outlook, as of one who is on guard at all times; and
her gaze as she fixed it upon Edith was one of searching, eager, yet
most cautious and wary examination. On the whole, this woman excited
some surprise in Edith; and while she was gratified at finding in her
one who was not out of the reach of respect, she yet was perplexed at
the calm and searching scrutiny of which she was the object. But she did
not now take any time to think about this. A vague idea occurred to her
that Mrs. Dunbar, like many other housekeepers, was one of that numerous
class who "have seen better days;" so, after the first look, she felt
sufficiently satisfied, and advancing a step or two to meet her, she
frankly held out her hand.

The housekeeper took it, and said, simply, "Welcome to Dalton Hall."

"Thank you," said Edith. "If I had met you before, I might have been