Herman heard no music and saw no pictures; his whole nature was absorbed in the one delightful feeling of being near Nora, only being near her, that was sufficient for the present to make him happy.  To talk to her was impossible, even if he had greatly desired to do so; for the music of which he had spoken made too much noise.  He stayed as long as he possibly could, and then reluctantly arose to leave.  He shook hands with Hannah first, reserving the dear delight of pressing Nora’s hand for the last.

The next day the weather changed again; it was fine; and Herman Brudenell, as usual, presented himself at the hut; his excuse this time being that he wished to inquire whether the sisters would not like to have some repairs put upon the house—­a new roof, another door and window, or even a new room added; if so, his carpenter was even now at Brudenell Hall, attending to some improvements there, and as soon as he was done he should be sent to the hut.

But no; Hannah wanted no repairs whatever.  The hut was large enough for her and her sister, only too small to entertain visitors.  So with this pointed home-thrust from Hannah, and a glance that at once healed the wound from Nora, he was forced to take his departure.

The next day he called again; he had, unluckily, left his gloves behind him during his preceding visit.

They were very nearly flung at his head by the thoroughly exasperated Hannah.  But again he was made happy by a glance from Nora.

And, in short, almost every day he found some excuse for coming to the cottage, overlooking all Hannah’s rude rebuffs with the most imperturbable good humor.  At all these visits Hannah was present.  She never left the house for an instant, even when upon one occasion she saw the cows in her garden, eating up all the young peas and beans.  She let the garden be utterly destroyed rather than leave Nora to hear words of love that for her could mean nothing but misery.  This went on for some weeks, when Hannah was driven to decisive measures by an unexpected event.  Early one morning Hannah went to a village called “Baymouth,” to procure coffee, tea, and sugar.  She went there, did her errand, and returned to the hut as quickly as she could possibly could.  As she suddenly opened the door she was struck with consternation by seeing the wheel idle and Nora and Herman seated close together, conversing in a low, confidential tone.  They started up on seeing her, confusion on their faces.

Hannah was thoroughly self-possessed.  Putting her parcels in Nora’s hands, she said: 

“Empty these in their boxes, dear, while I speak to Mr. Brudenell.”  Then turning to the young man, she said:  “Sir, your mother, I believe, has asked to see me about some cloth she wishes to have woven.  I am going over to her now; will you go with me?”

“Certainly, Hannah,” replied Mr. Brudenell, seizing his hat in nervous trepidation, and forgetting or not venturing to bid good-by to Nora.