she sat listlessly watching the dancing flames that kept struggling through the smoke.
"May I come in, Miss Ashton?" said a voice at the door; and, without waiting for an answer, an old crone entered. She approached the hearth, placed in a warm nook a tankard of mulled wine and a plate of spiced apples, drew a low and cushioned settle forwards, seated herself, and whispered in a subdued, yet hissing tone, "I thought you would be lonely, so I came up for half an hour’s chat: it is the very night for some of your favourite stories."
Lucy started from her recumbent position, cast a frightened glance around, and seemed for the first time sensible of her companion's presence.
"Ah! is it you, Dame Alison? sooth it is but a dreary evening, and I am glad of a companion—these old rooms are so gloomy."
"You may well say so, for they have many a gloomy memory; the wife has wept for her husband, and the mother for her child; and the hand of the son has been against his father, and that of the father against his son. Why, look at yonder wainscot; see you no dark stains there? In this very room—"
"Not of this room; tell me nothing of this room,” half screamed the girl, as she turned from the direction in which the nurse pointed. "I sleep here; I should see it every night:—tell me of something far, far away."
"Well, well, dear; it is only to amuse you. It
