“That might be without preventing your relationship; I will do my best to ascertain it.”

Colonel Norton’s letter gave decisive information that Barnes was the name of the uncle with whom Caroline Otway had been living at the time of her marriage.  She had been treated as a poor relation, and seemed to be half-slave, half-governess to the children of the favoured sister, little semi-Spanish tyrants.  This had roused Captain Allen’s chivalry, and his friend remembered his saying that, though he had little or nothing of his own, he could at least make her happier than she was in such a family.  The uncle was reported to have grown rich in the mahogany trade, and likewise by steamboat speculations, coupled with judicious stock-jobbing among the distressed West Indians, after the emancipation.

“He was a sinister-looking old fellow,” ended Colonel Norton, “and I should think not very particular; but I should be glad to hear that he had done justice to poor Allen’s daughter.  He was written to when she was left an orphan, but vouchsafed no answer.”

“Still he may have kept an eye upon you,” added Uncle Robert.  “I do not think it was new to him that you had married into our family.”

“If only those unfortunate boys have not ruined everything,” sighed Ellen.

“Little Elvira’s father must have been one of those cousins,” said Caroline.  “I wonder what became of the others?  She must be-—let me see-—my second cousin.”

“Not very near,” said Ellen.

“I never had a blood relation before since my old aunt died.  I am so glad that brilliant child belongs to me!”

“I daresay old Gould could tell you more,” said the Colonel.

“Is it wise to revive the connection?” asked his wife.

“The Goulds are not likely to presume,” said the Colonel; “and I think that if Caroline takes up the one connection, she is bound to take up the other.”

“How am I to make up to this cross old man?” said Carey.  “I can’t go and fawn on him.”

“Certainly not,” said her brother-in-law; “but I think you ought to make some advance, merely as a relation.”

On the family vote, Caroline rather unwillingly wrote a note, explaining that she had only just discovered her kinship with Mr. Barnes, and offering to come and see him; but not the smallest notice was taken of her letter, rather to her relief, though she did not like to hear Ellen augur ill for the future.

Another letter, to old Mr. Gould, begging him to call upon her next market day, met with a far more ready response.  When at his entrance she greeted him with outstretched hands, and—-"I never thought you were a connection;” the fine old weather-beaten face was strangely moved, as the rugged hand took hers, and the voice was husky that said—-

“I thought there was a likeness in the voice, but I never imagined you were grandchild to poor Carey Barnes; I beg your pardon, to Mrs. Otway.”