she had but a frail prettiness, not un- 

 like her namesake flower. The years 

 passed slowly, unfretted by the hurry 

 and bustle which affects those in the 

 outer world, and first her mother, and 

 then her father, fell asleep, — one can 

 hardly call such peaceful ends dying, — 

 and Artemesiaf ound herself quite alone. 



" 'T was now I knew her first, — a 

 dainty little lady, somewhat prim in 

 all her ways, and whether consciously 

 or not, growing each year more and 

 more like the artemesias which grew 

 so plentifully in her garden, their pale 

 colourings repeated in her gowns of 

 mauve or grey, with the delicate laces 

 which she always wore, and which were 

 not unlike the rime of hoar-frost which 

 often lay on the garden blossoms. 



"Perhaps you do not remember 



your uncle, certainly not as he was 



when we first came here to live. 



Handsome, vivid, full of life and mer- 



i88 



