“Are you going with me, Hannah?”

“Surely, my child,” said the elder sister, reaching her bonnet and shawl.

The weather was intensely cold, and in going to Brudenell the sisters had to face a fierce northwest wind.  In walking through the valley they were sheltered by the wood; but in climbing the hill upon the opposite side they could scarcely keep their feet against the furious blast.

They reached the house at last.  Hannah remembered to go to the servants’ door.

“Ah, Hannah! they little think that when next I come to Brudenell it will be in my own carriage, which will draw up at the main entrance,” said Nora, with exultant pride, as she blew her cold fingers while they waited to be admitted.

The door was opened by Jovial, who started back at the sight of the sisters and exclaimed: 

“Hi, Miss Hannah, and Miss Nora, you here?  Loramity sake come in and lemme shet the door.  Dere, go to de fire, chillern!  Name o’ de law what fetch you out dis bitter night?  Wind sharp nuff to peel de skin right offen your faces!”

“Your mistress sent word that she wished to see Nora this evening, Jovial.  Will you please to let her know that we are here?” asked Hannah, as she and her sister seated themselves beside the roaring hickory fire in the ample kitchen fireplace.

“Sartain, Miss Hannah!  Anything to obligate the ladies,” said Jovial, as he left the kitchen to do his errand.

Before the sisters had time to thaw, their messenger re-entered, saying: 

“Mistess will ’ceive Miss Nora into de drawing-room.”

Nora arose in trepidation to obey the summons.

Jovial led her along a spacious, well-lighted passage, through an open door, on the left side of which she saw the dining-room and the dinner-table, at which Mr. Brudenell and his gentlemen guests still sat lingering over their wine.  His back was towards the door, so that he could not see her, or know who was at that time passing.  But as her eyes fell upon him, a glow of love and pride warmed and strengthened her heart, and she said: 

“After all, he is my husband and this is my house!  Why should I be afraid to meet the lady mother?”

And with a firm, elastic step Nora entered the drawing-room.  At first she was dazzled and bewildered by its splendor and luxury.  It was fitted up with almost Oriental magnificence.  Her feet seemed to sink among blooming flowers in the soft rich texture of the carpet.  Her eyes fell upon crimson velvet curtains that swept in massive folds from ceiling to floor; upon rare full-length pictures that filled up the recesses between the gorgeously draped windows; broad crystal mirrors above the marble mantel-shelves; marble statuettes wherever there was a corner to hold one; soft crimson velvet sofas, chairs, ottomans and stools; inlaid tables; papier-mache stands; and all the thousand miscellaneous vanities of a modern drawing-room.