Day had already come, but no bright sun shone down upon the earth, for leaden clouds were in the sky, and nature was bathed in tears.  It was some time before the agitation that accompanied Miss Loring’s sudden awakening, had sufficiently subsided to leave her mind composed enough to arise and join the family.  When she did so, she found her aunt, Mrs. Loring and her cousins Amanda and Dora, two not over refined school girls, aged fourteen and sixteen, awaiting her appearance.

“You are late this morning, Jessie,” said Mrs. Loring.  Then, before her niece had time to reply, she spoke to her eldest daughter—­“Amanda, ring the bell, and order breakfast at once.”

“I am sorry to have kept you waiting, aunt Phoebe,” replied Jessie.  “I did not get to bed until very late, and slept too soundly for the morning bell.”

“You must have been as deeply buried in the arms of Morpheus as one of the seven sleepers, not to have heard that bell!  I thought Kitty would never stop the intolerable din.  The girl seems to have a passion for bell-ringing.  Her last place was, I fancy, a boarding-house.”

Mrs. Loring spoke with a slight shade of annoyance in her tones.  Her words and manner, it was plain from Jessie’s countenance, were felt as a rebuke.  In a few moments the breakfast bell was heard, and the family went down to the morning meal, which had been delayed full half an hour beyond the usual time.

“Had you a pleasant time last evening?” inquired Mrs. Loring, after they were seated at the table, and a taste of the fragrant coffee and warm cakes had somewhat refreshed her body, and restored the tranquillity of her feelings.

“Very,” replied Jessie in an absent way.

“Who was there?”

“Oh! everybody.  It was a very large company.”

“Who in particular that I know?”

“Mrs. Compton and her daughter Agnes.”

“Indeed!  Was Agnes there?” said Mrs. Loring, in manifest surprise.

“Yes; and she looked beautiful.”

“I didn’t know that she had come out.  Agnes must be very young—­not over seventeen.  I am surprised at her mother!  How did she behave herself?  Bold, forward and hoydenish enough, I suppose!  I never liked her.”

“I did not observe any impropriety of conduct,” said Jessie.  “She certainly was neither bold nor forward.”

“Did she sing?”

“No.”

“Probably no one asked her.”  Mrs. Loring was in a cynical mood.

“Yes; I heard her asked more than once to sing.”

“And she refused?”

“Yes.”

“Affectation!  She wanted urging.  She has had peculiar advantages, and is said to possess fine musical ability.  I have heard that she is a splendid performer.  No doubt she was dying to show off at the piano.”

“I think not,” said Jessie, “for I heard her say to Mrs. Compton, in an under tone, ’I can’t, indeed, dear mother!  The very thought of playing before these people, makes my heart tremble.  I can play very well at home, when my mind is calm; but I should blunder in the first bar here.”