She would see as through a mist the passionate, restless child with the rebellious eyes to whom the room had once belonged; and later the strangely self- possessed girl with that impalpable veil of mystery around her who would stand with folded hands, there by the window, seeming always to be listening.

And she, too, had passed away.

The tears would come into her eyes, and she would stretch out yearning arms towards their shadowy forms.

But they would only turn upon her eyes that saw not, and would fade away.
In the day-time, when Arthur and her father were at the works, she would move through the high, square, stiffly-furnished rooms, or about the great formal garden, with its ordered walks and level lawns.

And as with knowledge we come to love some old, stern face our childish eyes had thought forbidding, and would not have it changed, there came to her with the years a growing fondness for the old, plain brick-built house.
Generations of Allways had lived and died there: men and women somewhat narrow, unsympathetic, a little hard of understanding; but at least earnest, sincere, seeking to do their duty in their solid, unimaginative way.