Its master is coming. "

"Do you mean Judge Pyncheon?" asked Phoebe, in surprise.
"Judge Pyncheon!" answered her cousin, angrily. "He
will hardly cross the threshold while I live! No, no! But,
Phoebe, you shall see the face of him I speak of."

She went in quest of the miniature already described, and
returned with it in her hand. Giving it to Phoebe, she
watched her features narrowly, and with a certain jealousy
as to the mode in which the girl would show herself affected
by the picture.
"How do you like the face?" asked Hepzibah.
"It is handsome! — it is very beautiful!" said Phoebe, admir-
ingly. "It is as sweet a face as a man's can be, or ought to
be. It has something of a child's expression, — and yet not
childish, — only one feels so very kindly towards him I He
ought never to suffer anything. One would bear much for



MAY AND NOVEMBER 105

the sake of sparing him toil or sorrow. Who is it, Cousin
Hepzibah?"

"Did you never hear,'* whispered her cousin, bending
towards her, "of Clifford Pyncheon?"

"Never! I thought there were no Pyncheons left, except
yourself and our cousin Jaffrey,'* answered Phoebe. "And
yet I seem to have heard the name of Clifford Pyncheon.
Yes! — from my father or my mother; but has he not been a
long while dead?"

"Well, well, child, perhaps he has!" said Hepzibah, with a
sad, hollow laugh; "but, in old houses like this, you know,
dead people are very apt to come back again ! We shall see.
