They went down into the morning-room together, and Emily rose to meet John.  It was the first time he had seen her in her mourning-dress and with the cap that did not seem at all to belong to her.

Emily was a graceful young woman.  Her face, of a fine oval shape, was devoid of ruddy hues; yet it was more white than pale; the clear dark grey eyes shining with health, and the mouth being red and beautiful.  The hair was dark, abundant, and devoid of gloss, and she had the advantage of a graceful and cordial manner, and a very charming smile.

There were tears on her eyelashes when she spoke to John, and he knew that his little cherub of a child must have caused them.  She presently went back to her place, taking little Anastasia on her knee; while Dorothea, sitting on the sofa close to them, and facing the child, occupied and pleased herself with the little creature, and encouraged her to talk.

Of English children this was a lovely specimen, and surely there are none lovelier in the world.  Dorothea listened to her pretty tongue, and mused over her with a silent rapture.  Her hair fell about her face like flakes of floss-silk, loose, and yellow as Indian corn; and her rosy cheeks were deeply dimpled.  She was the only one of the Mortimers who was small for her years.  She liked being nursed and petted, and while Dorothea smoothed out the fingers of her tiny gloves, the little fat hands, so soft and warm, occupied themselves with the contents of her work-box.

She was relating how Grand had invited them all to spend the day.  “Papa brought the message, and they all wanted to go; and so—­” she was saying, when John caught the sound of her little voice—­“and so papa said, ’What! not one of you going to stay with your poor old father?’”—­these words, evidently authentic, she repeated with the deepest pathos—­“and so,” she went on, “I said, ‘I will.’” Then, after a pause for reflection, “That was kind of me, wasn’t it?”

A few caresses followed.

Then catching sight of Emily’s brooch, in which was a portrait of her child, little Nancy put the wide tulle cap-strings aside, and looked at it earnestly.

“I know who that is,” she said, after bestowing a kiss on the baby’s face.

“Do you, my sweet? who is it, then?”

“It’s Freddy; he’s gone to the happy land.  It’s full of little boys and girls.  Grand’s going soon,” she added, with great cheerfulness.  “Did you know?  Grand says he hopes he shall go soon.”

“How did Emily look?” asked Miss Christie, when John came home.

“Better than usual, I think,” said John carelessly.  “There’s no bitterness in her sorrow, poor thing!  She laughed several times at Nancy’s childish talk.”

“She looks a great deal too young and attractive to live alone,” said Miss Christie pointedly.

“Well,” answered John, “she need not do that long.  There are several fellows about here, who, unless they are greater fools than I take them for, will find her, as a well-endowed young widow, quite as attractive as they did when she was an almost portionless girl.”