All day little facts about “brother Amyas” kept breaking out.  Brother Amyas had beautiful gold lace, brother Amyas had a red and white feather; brother Amyas had given Fay and Letty each a ride on his shoulder, but Amy was afraid; brother Amyas said their papa would love them very much.  He had given them each a new silver shilling, and Amoret had in return presented him with her doll’s beautiful pink back-string that Cousin Aura had made for her.  This wonderful brother had asked who had taught them to be such pretty little gentlewomen, and at this Aurelia’s heart beat a little, but provoking Fidelia replied:  “I told him my Mammy Rolfe taught me to be genteel,” and Letty added:  “And he said Fay was a conceited little pussy cat.”

A strange indefinable feeling between self-respect and shyness made Aurelia shrink from the point-blank question whether the ungrateful little things had acknowledged their obligations to her.  She was always hoping they would say something of their own accord, and always disappointed.

Evening came, and she eagerly repaired to the dark room, wondering, yet half dreading to enter on the subject, and beginning by an apology for having by no means perfected herself in Priam’s visit to Achilles.

“If you have been making visits,” said Mr. Belamour:  “I too have had a visitor.”

“The children told me so,” she answered.

“He was greatly delighted with them,” said Mr. Belamour.

“While they, poor little things, never were more happy in their lives.  He must have been very kind to them, yet he did not know that they were here.”

“His mother is not communicative respecting them.  Ladies who love power seek to preserve it by making little mysteries.”

“It was to see you, sir, that he came.”

“Yes.  He ingenuously avowed that he had always been urged to do so by his stepfather, but his mother has always put obstacles in the way, and assured him that he would not gain admission.  I have certainly refused to see her, but this is a very different matter—­ my brother’s only child, my godson, and my ward!”

“I am very glad he has come to see you, sir, and I am sure it has given you pleasure.”

“Pleasure in seeing that he is a lad of parts, and of an ingenuous, affectionate, honest nature, but regret in perceiving how I failed in the confidence that his father reposed in me.”

“But, sir, you could not help it!”

“Once I could not.  It was, I know not how long, before I knew that my brother was no more; and thinking myself dead to the world and the world to me, I took no heed to what, it now seems to me, I was told of guardianship to the boy.  I was incapable of fulfilling any such charge, and I shunned the pain of hearing of it,” he continued, rather as if talking to himself than to his auditor.  “When I could, I gave them my name and they asked no more.  Yet what did they tell me of a sealed letter from my brother, addressed to me?  True, I heard of it more than once, but I could ask no one to read it to me, and I closed my ears.  In Wayland’s hands I knew the youth was well cared for, and only now do I feel that I have ill requited my brother’s confidence.”