Mary was shaken hands with first. She curtsied frequently, uttered many a “Dear me!" but expressed in more varied terms her admiration of little Charles. In the meantime Harriet's eyes rested on those who were strangers to her-the mother and son. Their beauty, and the simple grace of their deportment, as they stood modestly back attracted her admiration. At length, knowing how ignorant her good friend was of ceremonies of introduction, as of all other ceremonies, she advanced to the widow, and, taking her hand, expressed a hope that as Mr. Hardy's friend she might claim the privilege of acquaintanceship with one who must also be his friend, "I am a stranger from a distant country," Eugenia faltered out, whilst she blushed deeply, "and Mr. Hardy has insisted that my home shall be with him.” "Then we are sisters," said Harriet, kissing her cheek, "for when I was friendless he became my father also. Your brother?" she added, looking at Eugene. "No-my son." "Is it possible?" she exclaimed. "I am a widow-I was married young." Harriet pressed her hand as if to entreat her pardon-she feared that she had thoughtlessly recalled past sorrows. Poor Eugenia!-the tears sprang to her eyes. When had she beard a voice like this? When met looks so truthful and so mild? When seen dignity so softened by a gracious and a genial nature? And now the party sat down to tea—a tea with as many accompaniments as those which heaped the table on Benjamin's return. But who shall tell the rapture of this meal. Eugenia presided; Harriet was on her right; next her the little East Indian stranger; then close to him the good man of the house, and next him was the young West Indian. They sat as close together as they could with any degree of convenience. One would have thought that they had much secret tenderness to whisper into each other's ears. But no!-their joy and love were not talkative. They said little, and that little was about the child, who seemed a point of attraction for all their thoughts. Soon, however, he had to retire, and then Harriet found in her bedroom just such a little cot as she could have wished for him. It was receiving the last touches of arrangement from the hands of Mrs. Diggins, whose property it was, having been a present from Mr. Hardy. When Will ran home with the news of the arrivals, Kitty sent it off instantly, and followed it in the hope of seeing Miss Aveley and the dear little child. To do her justice, it must be told that it did not occur to her until afterwards, that though his name was Aveley, he was a nephew of the great house of Woreham; but, that being remembered, he was regarded by her with considerable respect. She begged to be allowed to assist in undressing him; and Harriet, goodnaturedly chatting with her about the news of the village, little suspected what a cause of speculation she herself had formerly been to Kitty. But Mrs. Diggins having departed, and the child being asleep, she gave another hour to her friends in the parlour. Then came the hour for her to seek repose after her fatigues. She required rest, but it was long before she could rest. In her chamber were the old books and pictures which she had brought from the cottage; and the furniture was that of her father's room which she had kept. The bed he had lain on in the sleep from which there is no waking, whilst she wept and watched beside him. And now she wept, but her tears were soothing. She could lay her head calmly on the pillow which had supported his, for she was listening with delight to the soft breathing of the child-another Charles |