“I thought her very beautiful,” said Eric rather curtly.  “But how has she been brought up, Mrs. Williamson?  And why?”

“Well, I might as well tell you the whole story, Master.  Kilmeny is the niece of Thomas and Janet Gordon.  Her mother was Margaret Gordon, their younger sister.  Old James Gordon came out from Scotland.  Janet and Thomas were born in the Old Country and were small children when they came here.  They were never very sociable folks, but still they used to visit out some then, and people used to go there.  They were kind and honest people, even if they were a little peculiar.

“Mrs. Gordon died a few years after they came out, and four years later James Gordon went home to Scotland and brought a new wife back with him.  She was a great deal younger than he was and a very pretty woman, as my mother often told me.  She was friendly and gay and liked social life.  The Gordon place was a very different sort of place after she came there, and even Janet and Thomas got thawed out and softened down a good bit.  They were real fond of their stepmother, I’ve heard.  Then, six years after she was married, the second Mrs. Gordon died too.  She died when Margaret was born.  They say James Gordon almost broke his heart over it.

“Janet brought Margaret up.  She and Thomas just worshipped the child and so did their father.  I knew Margaret Gordon well once.  We were just the same age and we set together in school.  We were always good friends until she turned against all the world.

“She was a strange girl in some ways even then, but I always liked her, though a great many people didn’t.  She had some bitter enemies, but she had some devoted friends too.  That was her way.  She made folks either hate or love her.  Those who did love her would have gone through fire and water for her.

“When she grew up she was very pretty—­tall and splendid, like a queen, with great thick braids of black hair and red, red cheeks and lips.  Everybody who saw her looked at her a second time.  She was a little vain of her beauty, I think, Master.  And she was proud, oh, she was very proud.  She liked to be first in everything, and she couldn’t bear not to show to good advantage.  She was dreadful determined, too.  You couldn’t budge her an inch, Master, when she once had made up her mind on any point.  But she was warm-hearted and generous.  She could sing like an angel and she was very clever.  She could learn anything with just one look at it and she was terrible fond of reading.

“When I’m talking about her like this it all comes back to me, just what she was like and how she looked and spoke and acted, and little ways she had of moving her hands and head.  I declare it almost seems as if she was right here in this room instead of being over there in the churchyard.  I wish you’d light the lamp, Master.  I feel kind of nervous.”

Eric rose and lighted the lamp, rather wondering at Mrs. Williamson’s unusual exhibition of nerves.  She was generally so calm and composed.