"You are very welcome," replied the sweetest voice Capitola had ever heard, as the young girl arose and advanced to meet her. "But you have been exposed to the storm. Please come into my room and change your clothes," continued the young hostess, as she took Cap's hand and led her into an adjoining room. The storm was still raging, but these apartments being in the central portion of the strong old house, were but little exposed to the sight or sound of its fury. There was a lamp burning upon the mantelpiece, by the light of which the young girl furnished her visitor with dry clothing and assisted her to change, saying as she did so: "I think we are about the same size, and that my clothes will fit you; but I will not offer you mourning habiliments--you shall have this lilac silk." "I am very sorry to see you in mourning," said Capitola, earnestly. "It is for my father," replied Clara, very softly. As they spoke the eyes of the two young girls met. They were both good physiognomists and intuitive judges of character. Consequently in the full meeting of their eyes they read, understood and appreciated each other. The pure, grave, and gentle expression of Clara's countenance touched the heart of Capitola. The bright, frank, honest face of Cap recommended her to Clara. The very opposite traits of their equally truthful characters attracted them to each other. Clara conducted her guest back into the wainscoted parlor, where a cheerful fire had been kindled to correct the dampness of the air. And here they sat down unmindful of the storm that came much subdued through the thickness of the walls. And, as young creatures, however tried and sorrowful, will do, they entered into a friendly chat. And before an hour had passed Capitola thought herself well repaid for her sufferings from the storm and the rebuff, in having formed the acquaintance of Clara Day. She resolved, let Old Hurricane rage as he might, henceforth she would be a frequent visitor to the Hidden House. And Clara, for her part, felt that in Capitola she had found a frank, spirited, faithful neighbor who might become an estimable friend. While they were thus growing into each other's favor, the door opened and admitted a gentleman of tall and thin figure and white and emaciated face, shaded by a luxuriant growth of glossy black hair and beard. He could not have been more than twenty-six, but, prematurely broken by vice, he seemed forty years of age. He advanced bowing toward the young women.