“How different from yesterday,” sighed Nora, at length.

“Yes, dear; but such is life,” said Hannah.  And there the conversation ended, and only the clatter of the loom and the whir of the wheel was heard again, the sisters working on in silence.  But hark!  Why has the wheel suddenly stopped and the heart of Nora started to rapid beating?

A step came crashing through the crisp frost, and a hand was on the door-latch.

“It is Mr. Brudenell!  What can he want here?” exclaimed Hannah, in a tone of impatience, as she arose and opened the door.

The fresh, smiling, genial face of the young man met her there.  His kind, cordial, cheery voice addressed her:  “Good morning, Hannah!  I have been down to the bay this morning, you see, bleak as it is, and the fish bite well!  See this fine rock fish! will you accept it from me?  And oh, will you let me come in and thaw out my half-frozen fingers by your fire? or will you keep me standing out here in the cold?” he added, smiling.

“Walk in, sir,” said Hannah, inhospitably enough, as she made way for him to enter.

He came in, wearing his picturesque fisherman’s dress, carrying his fishing-rod over his right shoulder, and holding in his left hand the fine rock fish of which he had spoken.  His eyes searched for and found Nora, whose face was covered with the deepest blushes.

“Good morning, Nora!  I hope you enjoyed yourself yesterday.  Did they take care of you after I left?” he inquired, going up to her.

“Yes, thank you, sir.”

“Mr. Brudenell, will you take this chair?” said Hannah, placing one directly before the fire, and pointing to it without giving him time to speak another word to Nora.

“Thank you, yes, Hannah; and will you relieve me of this fish?”

“No, thank you, sir; I think you had better take it up to the madam,” said Hannah bluntly.

“What! carry this all the way from here to Brudenell, after bringing it from the bay?  Whatever are you thinking of, Hannah?” laughed the young man, as he stepped outside for a moment and hung the fish on a nail in the wall.  “There it is, Hannah,” he said, returning and taking his seat at the fire; “you can use it or throw it away, as you like.”

Hannah made no reply to this; she did not wish to encourage him either to talk or to prolong his stay.  Her very expression of countenance was cold and repellent almost to rudeness.  Nora saw this and sympathized with him, and blamed her sister.

“To think,” she said to herself, “that he was so good to us when we went to see him; and Hannah is so rude to him, now he has come to see us!  It is a shame!  And see how well he bears it all, too, sitting there warming his poor white hands.”