The invitation was accepted—­the day had arrived, the guests were momentarily expected, and Carrie, before the long mirror, was admiring herself, alternately frowning upon John Jr., who was mimicking her “airs,” and scolding Anna for fretting because ’Lena could not be induced to join them.  Finding that her niece was resolved not to appear, Mrs. Livingstone, for looks’ sake, had changed her tactics, saying, “’Lena could come down if she chose—­she was sure there was nothing to prevent.”

Knowing this, Anna had exhausted all her powers of eloquence upon her cousin.  But she still remained inexorable, greatly to the astonishment of her grandmother who for several days had been suffering from a rheumatic affection, notwithstanding which she “meant to hobble down if possible, for” said she, “I want to see this Durward Bellmont.  Matilda says he’s got Noble blood in him.  I used to know a family of Nobles in Massachusetts, and I think like as not he’s some kin!”

Carrie, to whom this remark was made, communicated it to her mother, who forthwith repaired to Mrs. Nichols’ room, telling her “that ’twas a child’s party,” and hinting pretty strongly that she was neither wanted nor expected in the parlor, and would confer a great favor by keeping aloof.

“Wall, wall,” said Mrs. Nichols, who had learned to dread her daughter’s displeasure, “I’d as lief stay up here as not, but I do want ’Lena to jine ’em.  She’s young and would enjoy it.”

Without a word of answer Mrs. Livingstone walked away, leaving ’Lena more determined than ever not to go down.  When the evening at last arrived, Anna insisted so strongly upon her wearing the delaine, for fear of what might happen, that ’Lena consented, curling her hair with great care, and feeling a momentary thrill of pride as she saw how well she looked.

“When we get nicely to enjoying ourselves,” said Anna, “you come down and look through the glass door, for I do want you to see Durward, he’s so handsome—­but there’s the carriage—­I must go;” and away ran Anna down the stairs, while ’Lena flew to one of the front windows to see the company as they rode up.

First came Captain Atherton’s carriage, and in it the captain and his maiden sister, together with a pale, sickly-looking girl, whom ’Lena knew to be Mabel Ross.  Behind them rode Durward Bellmont, and at his side, on a spirited little pony was another girl, thirteen or fourteen years of age, but in her long riding-dress looking older, because taller.  ’Lena readily guessed that this was Nellie Douglass, and at a glance she recognized the Durward of the cars—­grown handsomer and taller since then, she thought.  With a nimble bound he leaped from his saddle, kissing his hand to Carrie, who with her sunniest smile ran past him to welcome Nellie.  A pang, not of jealousy, but of an undefined something, shot through ’Lena’s heart, and dropping the heavy curtain, she turned away, while the tears gathered thickly in her large brown eyes.