Meanwhile what were his purposes?  To conciliate his mother by every concession except one!  To let her depart from his house with the best feelings towards himself! then to write to her and announce his marriage; plead his great love as its excuse, and implore her forgiveness; then to keep his word and go to Washington, taking Nora with him, and remain in the capital for the winter if his mother should still desire him to do so.

A few moments longer the mother and son remained in the drawing room before separating for the night—­Mrs. Brudenell seated on her sofa and Herman walking slowly up and down the floor.  Then the lady arose to retire, and Herman lighted a bedroom candle and put it in her hand.

When she had bidden him good night and left the room, he resumed his slow and thoughtful walk.  It was very late, and Jovial opened the door for the purpose of entering and putting out the lights; but seeing his master still walking up and down the floor, he retired, and sat yawning while he waited in the hall without.

The clock upon the mantel-piece struck one, and Herman Brudenell lighted his own candle to retire, when his steps were arrested by a sound—­a common one enough at other hours and places, only unprecedented at that hour and in that place.  It was the roll of carriage wheels upon the drive approaching the house.

Who could possibly be coming to this remote country mansion at one o’clock at night?  While Herman Brudenell paused in expectancy, taper in hand, Jovial once more opened the door and looked in.

“Jovial, is that the sound of carriage wheels, or do I only fancy so?” asked the young man,

“Carriage wheels, marser, coming right to de house, too!” answered the negro.

“Who on earth can be coming here at this hour of the night?  We have not an acquaintance intimate enough with us to take such a liberty.  And it cannot be a belated traveler, for we are miles from any public road.”

“Dat’s jes’ what I been a-sayin’ to myself, sir.  But we shall find out now directly.”

While this short conversation went on, the carriage drew nearer and nearer, and finally rolled up to the door and stopped.  Steps were rattled down, someone alighted, and the bell was rung.

Jovial flew to open the door—­curiosity giving wings to his feet.

Mr. Brudenell remained standing in the middle of the drawing-room, attentive to what was going on without.  He heard Jovial open the door; then a woman’s voice inquired: 

“Is this Brudenell Hall?”

“In course it is, miss.”

“And are the family at home?”

“Yes, miss, dey most, in gen’al, is at dis hour ob de night, dough dey don’t expect wisiters.”

“Are all the family here?”

“Dey is, miss.”

“All right, coachman, you can take off the luggage,” said the woman, and then her voice, sounding softer and farther off, spoke to someone still within the carriage:  “We are quite right, my lady, this is Brudenell Hall; the family are all at home, and have not yet retired.  Shall I assist your ladyship to alight?”