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"
"A hundred pounds! Five hundred dollars! and maybe she devoutly hopes I
shall be the good angel who will send it to her, but she is mistaken. Do
I look like an angel?" Miss Betsey said, fiercely, addressing herself
again to the cat. "No, they may go to destruction their own way. I wash
my hands of them. I should have been glad for the little girl, but I
can't have her. She will grow up like her mother, marry some fool, have
her friend and brother dangling after her, and smuggle dinners and
lunches for her children up in the attic. Well, so be it. That ends it
forever!"
The letter was an insult from beginning to end, and Miss McPherson felt
it as such, and with a sigh of keen regret as for something lost, she
put away the picture, and when Flora asked when little Miss Bessie was
coming, she answered curtly:
"Never!"


PART II.


CHAPTER I.
STONELEIGH.

The season is June; the time fourteen years prior to the commencement of
this story, and the place an old garden in Wales, about half way between
Bangor and the suspension bridge across Menai Straits.


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