One day, long after he had become almost a member of the household, he told me he wanted me to know his sister, and that she would come the next day to see me, if I would like it.  I did like it, and waited for her with impatience.  He had told me a great deal about her, and I was full of curiosity to see her.  She was a little older than Richard, and the only sister; very pretty, and quite a person of consequence in society.  She had made an unfortunate marriage, though of that Richard said very little to me; but with better luck than attends most unfortunately-married, women, she was released by her husband’s early death, and was free to be happy again, with some pretty boys, a moderate fortune, and two brothers to look after her investments, and do her little errands for her.  She considered herself fortunate; and was a widow of rare discretion, in that she was wedded to her unexpected independence, and never intended to be wedded to anything or anybody else.  She was naturally cool and calculating, and was in no danger of being betrayed by her feelings into any other course of life than the one she had marked out as most expedient.  If she was worldly, she was also useful, intelligent, and popular, and a paragon in her brother’s partial eyes.

CHAPTER II.

Very good luck.

     Mieux vaut une once de fortune qu’une livre de sagesse.

At last (on the day on which Richard had advertised me she was coming,) the door was opened, and some one was taken to the parlor.  Then old Peter rang a bell which stood on the hall table, and called out to Ann Coddle (once my nurse, now the seamstress, chambermaid, and general lightener of his toils), to tell Miss Pauline a lady wanted her.

This bell was to save his old bones; he never went up-stairs, and he resented every visitor as an innovation.  They were so few, his temper was not much tried.  I was leaning over the stairs when the bell rang, and did not need a second message.  Ann, who continued to feel a care for my personal appearance, followed me to the landing-place and gave my sash a last pull.

When I found myself in the parlor I began to experience a little embarrassment.  Mrs. Hollenbeck was so pretty and her dress was so dainty, the dingy, stiff, old parlor filled me with dismay.  Fortunately, I did not think much of myself or my own dress.  But after a little, she put me at ease, that is, drew me out and made me feel like talking to her.

I admired her very much, but I did not feel any of the affection and quick cordiality with which Richard had inspired me.  I could tell that she was curious about me, and was watching me attentively, and though she was so charming that I felt flattered by her interest, I was not pleased when I remembered my interview with her.

“You are not at all like your brother,” I said, glancing in her face with frankness.