“What tribe did her mother belong to, papa?”

“The tribe of Judah, I believe, my love, was that her family traced their lineage from; but you question as if it were Pocahontas there was reference to instead of a high-bred Jewish lady!” speaking with asperity.

“I meant no offence, papa, I assure you,” said Evelyn, quietly; “I only asked for information.  Certainly there is something very grand in being related to King David.”

“There is, indeed,” said a gentle voice close at hand.  Miss Glen had entered silently as they were speaking.  “There was genius in that strain of blood, Evelyn, nay, more, divinity.  Christ claimed such descent.  Let us never forget that!  He, the universal brother.”  She spoke with feeling and dignity, and led me away, lecturing me greatly as she did so for not obeying Mrs. Austin as to the sun-bonnet bondage, which she promised; to make as light as possible by purchasing for me a new French contrivance called a caleche, light and airy and sheltering all at once.

I was seven years old then, and the understanding was complete between us that endured to the end, but as yet there was no foreshadowing of her marriage with my father.

She had been engaged, when she came to us, to a gentleman, who must have perished at sea soon afterward—­a young naval officer who had gone out on board of the United States sloop-of-war Hornet, the fate of which vessel is still wrapped in mystery, though that it foundered suddenly seemed then, as now, the universal opinion.  Miss Glen some time before had made up her mind to this, and was stemming a tide of grief with great fortitude and resolution, while she was laying the foundations of character and education in her two very opposite pupils, both of whom she guided with equal ability.

My father was not unaware of her sufferings, I think, indeed, this community of sorrow first attracted him toward her, and later he was confirmed in his admiration of her womanly self-control and beauty of character, by the development he saw in his children, the work of her hand.  That he was ever profoundly in love with her I do not believe, nor did she pretend to any passionate regard for him.  Respect, friendship, confidence, mutual esteem, were the foundations of their union, which certainly promised enduring happiness to all concerned, and which was looked on with favor by the whole household, not excepting Mrs. Austin herself.

“If any successor of your dear mother must come, Evelyn,” I heard her say one day to my sister, “we had better have her we know, to be sure, than a mere stranger, but I must say I can’t see why your papa does not content himself as he is.  I am sure he seems very happy in his library and his greenhouse, and driving out in his Tilbury, or with you two young ladies in the coach of afternoons, and chatting and smoking of evenings with Mr. Bainrothe or old Mr. Stanbury.  I should