She threw the black lace dress upon the bed, and selecting a quaker-looking fawn cashmere from her wardrobe, put it on instead, and having somewhat smoothed down her rippling hair, she tied on a black silk apron, and took her way down to the library. She opened the door with a beating heart, for she had begun to fear lest the strangers might prove to be the bearers of bad news to her, but the moment she set eyes on the figure of the young woman, she gave vent to an exclamation of surprise and delight, and rushed into her extended arms. ‘Hetty! Hetty!’ she cried hysterically, ‘my own dear sister! Oh, how is it you are in London? Why did you not tell me you were coming? You have not brought bad news, have you? Oh, don’t tell me that mother is ill, for I couldn’t bear it.’ ‘No, Nell, no!’ exclaimed the younger sister, ‘they are all as well at home as can be. Mother and father are just beautiful, and the crops first-rate. But we--that is, Will and I--thought we would give you such a grand surprise. We have such news for you! You’d never guess it, Nell! Don’t you see who’s this with me? William Owen, our old play-mate! Well, he’s my husband. We were married the day before yesterday.’ ‘Married!’ repeated Miss Llewellyn, incredulously. ‘Little Hester, who was always such a baby compared to me, really married. This is a surprise!’ And to prove how much she thought it so, Miss Llewellyn sat down on a sofa and burst into tears. ‘Oh, Nelly! you are not vexed because we did not tell you sooner, are you?’ cried Hetty, kneeling down beside her sister. ‘We thought you would like the grand surprise, dear, and I made Will promise that the first thing he did was to bring me up to London town to see my beautiful sister Nell! And oh, Nell, you do look such a lady. I’m sure I feel so countrified beside you, I can’t say.’ ‘You look too sweet for anything,’ replied Miss Llewellyn kissing her, ‘and I was only crying a little for joy, Hetty, to think you are so happy. But what a child to be married! Why, how old are you? Not more than seventeen, surely!’ ‘Oh, yes, Nell; you have not been home for such a time, you forget how it goes on. I was twenty-one last spring, dear; and you are twenty-four! But how different you are from what you used to be. Is it London life that makes you so grand? You look like a queen beside me! You must think I am a bumpkin in my wedding clothes.’ ‘Nonsense, dear Hetty. One is obliged to be more particular in town than in the country. Besides, I am filling an important situation, you know, and am expected to dress up to it.’ ‘Oh yes, I was telling Will all the way down from Usk, what a fine place you have, and such a rich master. Oh, Nell! is he at home? Lord Ilfracombe I mean. I should love to go back and tell them that I had seen a lord.’