Adele having put some tea in the urn, poured boiling water upon it and left the room.

Returning in a few minutes, accompanied by her mother and Mrs. McNab, they soon drew up around the tea-table.

When seated, Mrs. Dubois and Adele made the sign of the cross and closed their eyes.  Mrs. McNab, glancing at them deprecatingly for a moment, at length fixed her gaze on Mr. Norton.  He also closed his eyes and asked a mute blessing upon the food.

Mrs. Dubois was endowed with delicate features, a soft, Madonna like expression of countenance, elegance of movement and a quiet, yet gracious manner.  Attentive to those around the board, she said but little.  Occasionally, she listened in abstracted mood to the beating storm without.

Mrs. McNab, a middle-aged Scotch woman, with a short, square, ample form, filled up a large portion of the side of the table she occupied.  Her coarse-featured, heavy fare, surrounded by a broad, muslin cap frill, that nearly covered her harsh yellow hair, was lighted up by a pair of small gray eyes, expressing a mixture of cunning and curiosity.  Her rubicund visage, gaudy-colored chintz dress, and yellow bandanna handkerchief, produced a sort of glaring sun-flower effect, not mitigated by the contrast afforded by the other members of the group.

“Madam”, said Mr. Norton to Mrs. Dubois, on seeing her glance anxiously at the windows, as the wild, equinoctial gale caused them to clatter violently, “do you fear that your husband is exposed to any particular danger at this time?”

“No special danger.  But it is a lawless country.  The night is dark and the storm is loud.  I wish he were safely at home”, replied the lady.

“Your solicitude is not strange.  But you may trust him with the Lord.  Under His protection, not a hair of his head can be touched”.

Before Mrs. Dubois had time to reply, Mrs. McNab, looking rather fiercely at Mr. Norton, said, “Yer dinna suppose, sir, if the Lord had decreed from all eternity that Mr. Doobyce should be drowned, or rabbed, or murdered to-night, that our prayin’ an’ trustin’ wad cause Him to revoorse His foreordained purpose?  Adely”, she continued, “I dinna mind if I take anither egg an’ a trifle more o’ chicken an’ some pickle”.

By no means taken aback by this pointed inquiry, Mr. Norton replied very gently, “I believe, ma’am, in the power of prayer to move the Almighty throne, when it comes from a sincere and humble heart, and that He will bestow His blessing in return”.

“Weel”, said Mrs. McNab, “I was brought up in the church o’ Scotland, and dinna believe anything anent this new-light doctrine o’ God’s bein’ turned roun’ an’ givin’ up his decrees an’ a’that.  I think it’s the ward o’ Satan”, and she passed her cup to be again refilled with tea.

Adele, who had noticed that Mrs. McNab’s observations had suggested new solicitudes to her mother’s mind, remarked, “What you said just now, Aunt Patty, is not very consoling.  Whoever thought that my father would meet with anything worse than perhaps being drenched by the storm, and half eaten up with vermin in the dirty inns where he will have to lodge?  I do not doubt he will be home in good time”.