“I sincerely wish it undone.”

“I think you don’t,” said Mrs. Bertram, slowly.  She laughed in a disagreeable manner.  “The old woman is coming back,” she said suddenly; “invite me into your parlor for a moment, I have a word or two to say to you.”

Josephine led the way into the little sitting-room; she offered a chair to Mrs. Bertram, who would not take it.  Then she went and shut the door between the kitchen and the parlor, and standing with her back to the shut door turned and faced Mrs. Bertram.

“How did you guess my name?” she said, suddenly.

“That was not so difficult.  I recognized you by the description my daughter gave of you.  She saw you, remember, that night you hid in the avenue.”

“I did not know it was that,” said Josephine softly; “I thought it was the likeness.  I am the image of him, am I not?”

She took a small morocco case out of her pocket and proceeded to open it.

Mrs. Bertram put her hand up to her eyes as if she would shut away a terrible sight.

“Hush, child! how dare you?  Don’t show me that picture.  I won’t look.  What a wicked impostor you are!”

“Impostor!  You know better, and my grandfather knows better.  What is the matter, Mrs. Bertram?”

Mrs. Bertram sank down into the chair which at first she had obstinately refused.

“Josephine,” she said, “I am no longer a young woman; I have not got the strength of youth.  I cannot bear up as the young can bear up.  Why have you come here?  What object have you in torturing me with your presence here?”

“I won’t torture you; I shall live quietly.”

“But why have you come?  You had no right to come.”

“I had perfect right to live where I pleased.  I had all the world to choose from, and I selected to live at your gates.”

“You did very wrong.  Wrong!  It is unpardonable.”

“Why so?  What injury am I doing you?  I have promised to be silent; I will be silent for a little.  I won’t injure you or yours by word or deed.”

“You have a story in your head, a false story; you will spread it abroad.”

“I have a story, but it is not false.”

“False or true, you will spread it abroad.”

“No, the story is safe.  For the present it is safe, my lips are sealed.”

“Josephine, I wish you would go away.”

“I am sorry, I cannot go away.”

“We cannot associate with you.  You are not brought up like us.  You will be lonely here, you will find it very dull, you had better go away.”

“I am not going away.  I have come here and I mean to stay.  I shall watch you, and your son, and your daughters; that will be my amusement.”

“I won’t say any more to you, proud and insolent girl.  My son, at least, is spared your scrutiny, he is not at Rosendale; and my daughters, I think, they can live through it.”

Mrs. Bertram turned and left the little parlor.  She gave her note to Mrs. Tester, desired it to be taken at once to the Gray House, and then returned quietly and steadily to the Manor.  When she got in she called Catherine to her.