"Perhaps," said Ethel, a little apprehensively—for the garb of her companion made her think that; perhaps, she was some Jacobite emissary—"it was my grandmother whom you wished to see?"
"No, no, it was yourself!" exclaimed the stranger, eagerly, as if startled by Ethel's voice. "Pardon me, young lady, but I am not well; and to myself my errand is a painful one."
"Pray do not stand," said Ethel; and, drawing a large arm-chair, took the stranger's hand, and gently forced her to be seated.
"Pray sit by me," continued the lady; and Ethel placed herself in the window-seat, wondering at her singular visitor, in whom, however, she could not help feeling interested. "I ought to tell you my name," exclaimed the stranger, breaking silence by an obvious effort, "I am Mrs. Courtenaye."
Ethel started to her feet, turning deadly pale, and sank again on her seat; and her visitor seemed almost startled at the effect which her words had produced. Miss Church-
