to a noble line of pedigree far higher than that of the Delavies, might well return her haughty looks, and would not yield an inch, nor join in the general adulation.  There were disputes about us children.  Poor Archie was a most beautiful boy, and though you might not suppose it, I was a very pretty little girl, this nose of mine being then much more shapely than the little buttons which grow to fair proportions.  On the other hand, the little Belamours were puny and sickly; indeed, as you know, this young Sir Amyas, who was not then born, is the only one of the whole family who has been reared.  Then we had been carefully bred, could chatter French, recite poetry, make our bow and curtsey, bridle, and said Sir and Madam, while the poor little cousins who had been put out to nurse had no more manners than the calves and pigs.  People were the more flattering to us because they expected soon to see my father in his Lordship’s place; and on the other hand, officious tongues were not wanting to tell my Lady how Mrs. Delavie contrasted the two sets of children.  Very bitter offence was taken; nor has my Lady ever truly forgiven, whatever our dear good father may believe.  When the old Lord died, a will was found, bequeathing all his unentailed estates to his daughter, and this was of course strong presumption that he believed in the existence of a deed of entail; but none could ever be found, and the precedents were not held to establish the right.”

“Did he leave my father nothing?” asked Harriet.

“He left him three hundred pounds and made him joint executor with Sir Jovian.  There was no mention of this house, which was the original house of the family, the first Lord having built the Great House; and both my father and Sir Jovian were sure the Lord Delavie believed it would come to him; but no proofs were extant, and my Lady would only consent to his occupying it, as before, as her agent.”

“I always knew we were victims to an injustice,” said Harriet, “though I never understood the matter exactly.”

“You were a mere child, and my father does not love to talk of it.  He ceased to care much about the loss after our dear Archie died.”

“Not for Eugene’s sake?”

“Eugene was not born for two years after Archie’s death.  My dear mother had drooped from the time of the disappointment, blaming herself for having ruined my father, and scarce accepting comfort when he vowed that all was well lost for her sake.  She reproached herself with having been proud and unconciliatory, though I doubt whether it made much difference.  Then her spirit was altogether crushed by the loss of Archie, she never had another day’s health.  Eugene came to her like Ichabod to Phinehas’ wife, and she was soon gone from us,” said Betty, wiping away a tear.

“Leaving us a dear sister to be a mother to us,” said Aurelia, raising her sweet face for a kiss.

Harriet pondered a little, and said, “My Lady is not at enmity with us, since my father keeps the house and agency.”