already referred, as a native of a rural part of New England, where the old fashions and feelings of relationship are still partially kept up.

In her own circle, it was regarded as by no means improper for kinsfolk to visit one another without invitation, or preliminary and ceremonious warning. Yet, in consideration of Miss Hepzibah’s recluse way of life, a letter had actually been written and despatched, conveying information of Phoebe’s projected visit. This epistle, for three or four days past, had been in the pocket of the penny-postman, who, happening to have no other business in Pyncheon Street, had not yet made it convenient to call at the House of the Seven Gables.

“No — she can stay only one night,” said Hepzibah, unbolting the door. “If Clifford were to find her here, it might disturb him!”