“Quite excusable,” returned Mrs. Graham, at the same time saying something in a low tone about it’s not being her wish to stop there so early, as she knew she was not expected.

“But perfectly welcome, nevertheless,” ’Lena hastened to say, thinking that for the time being the reputation of her uncle’s house was resting upon her shoulders.

“I dare say,” was Mrs. Graham’s ungracious answer, and then her little gray, deep-set eyes rested upon ’Lena, wondering if she were “a governess or what?” and thinking it strange that she should seem so perfectly self-possessed.

Insensibly, too, ’Lena’s manner won upon her, for spite of her fretfulness, Mrs. Graham at heart was a kindly disposed woman.  Ill health and long years of dissipation had helped to make her what she was.  Besides this, she was not quite happy in her domestic relations, for though Mr. Graham possessed all the requisites of a kind and affectionate husband, he could not remove from her mind the belief that he liked others better then he did herself!  ’Twas in vain that he alternately laughed at and reasoned with her on the subject.  She was not to be convinced, and so poor Mr. Graham, who was really exceedingly polite and affable to the ladies, was almost constantly provoking the green-eyed monster by his attentions to some one of the fair sex.  In spite of his nightly “Caudle” lectures, he would transgress again and again, until his wife’s patience was exhausted, and now she affected to have given him up, turning for comfort and affection toward Durward, who was her special delight, “the very apple of her eye—­he was so much like his father, Sir Arthur, who during the whole year that she lived with him had never once given her cause for jealousy.”

Just before ’Lena entered the parlor Mr. Graham, had for a moment stepped out with Mr. Livingstone, but soon returning, he, too, was introduced to the young lady.  It was strange, considering ’Lena’s uncommon beauty, that Mrs. Graham did not watch her husband’s manner, but for once in her life she felt no fears, and looking from the window, she failed to note the sudden pallor which overspread his face when Mr. Livingstone presented to him “Miss Rivers—­my niece.”

Mr. Graham was a tall, finely-formed man, with a broad, good-humored face, whose expression instantly demanded respect from strangers, while his pleasant, affable deportment universally won the friendship of ail who knew him.  And ’Lena was not an exception to the general rule, for the moment his warm hand grasped hers and his kindly beaming eye rested upon her, her heart went toward him as a friend, while she wondered why he looked at her so long and earnestly, twice repeating her name—­“Miss Rivers—­Rivers.”

From the first, ’Lena had recognized him as the same gentleman whom Durward had called father in the cars years ago, and when, as if to apologize for his singular conduct, he asked if they had never met before, she referred him to that time, saying “she thought it strange that he should remember her.”