future intercourse with her own relations; and the little girl had, on such occasions, felt a chill of vague fear, and a momentary pang of anxiety as to the reception she might possibly meet with from these people, none of whom had ever been found by a poor labouring man alone on a wild sea-shore, or had lived with a humble woman in a cottage.  That the “disgrace” of such a past clung round herself, Grant’s disagreeable eyes would never allow her to forget.  Such were poor Hetty’s disordered ideas with regard to herself and her little world, when Mrs. Rushton’s carriage drew up that day before the door of Wavertree Hall.

Mrs. Enderby was seated at her embroidery in the drawing-room beside her small elegant tea-table, and looked the very ideal of an English gentlewoman in her silver-gray silk and delicate lace ruffles, and with her fair, almost colourless hair twisted in neat shining braids round the back of her head.  With her own faint sweet smile she welcomed her sister-in-law and inquired kindly for her health; and then she turned to Hetty, who stood gazing steadily in her face, utterly unconscious of her own look of anxious inquiry.

Mrs. Rushton had taken pains to make the most of Hetty’s uncommon beauty on this occasion, determined to take her friends by surprise and force them into an acknowledgment of the superiority of her own taste in adopting such a child.  Hetty was dressed in a dark crimson velvet frock, trimmed with rich old yellow lace, which enhanced the warmth and richness of her complexion, and gave a reflected glow to her dark and deep-fringed eyes.  A crop of crisp short curls of a dusky chestnut colour was discovered when her hat was removed.  No ungenerous prejudice prevented Mrs. Enderby from acknowledging at the first glance that Hetty had a most charming countenance.

“And this is Hetty! how she has grown!” said Mrs. Enderby, taking the child’s little hand between her own and looking at her in a friendly manner.  With a swift pain, however, Hetty remarked that she did not kiss her; but she was not aware that Mrs. Enderby, though a kind, was not a demonstrative woman, and that kisses were rarely bestowed by her on anyone.  If Hetty had put up her little face for a caress, Mrs. Enderby would have been very well pleased to lay her own cool cheek against the child’s scarlet lips; but Hetty’s was one of those natures that desire tokens of love and are yet too proud to seek for them.  She flushed to her hair, therefore, with mortification as Mrs. Enderby dropped her hand and turned away once more to her sister-in-law.

“How tired you are! you look quite faint.  Allow me to take your bonnet; and do lie down on this couch while I make you a cup of tea.  Hetty must amuse herself with a piece of cake till my little girls come in from their walk.  I have got such a nice governess for them, Amy.  Mark, you know, is gone to Eton.”