to smoke as I involuntarily drew near and held them to the warm coal fire in the grate in the reception-room where I was to wait for Lady Fairfax. She was at home, the tall footman said, and engaged with a lady, but wished me to wait, and I fancied there was a shade of deference in his demeanor toward me after he had taken my card to his mistress and received her message for me. How pleasant it was in that pretty room, with the flowers in the bow window, the soft, rich carpet, the comfortable chairs, the bright fire, which felt so grateful to me after the raw November wind outside. And for a time I enjoyed it all, and listened to the murmur of voices in the parlor across the hall, where Lady Fairfax was entertaining her visitor. Both were well-bred voices, I thought, and one seemed stronger than the other, as if its owner were a stronger, more self-reliant woman than her companion, and I felt intuitively that I would trust her before the other. Which was Lady Fairfax, and who was her visitor, I wondered, just as a rustling silk trailed down the stairs, and an elderly lady entered the parlor opposite. I heard her address some one as Miss Elliston, and the lower, softer voice responded. Then the stronger voice said: “Oh, Lucy, by the way, when have you heard from your brother, and will he soon be home?” Instantly then I knew that Lucy Elliston was Lady Fairfax’s guest, and I was hoping I might have a glimpse of her as she passed the door on her way out, when a smart waiting-maid entered the room hurriedly, and apparently spoke a few words to Lady Fairfax, who exclaimed: “Why, Lucy dear, Christine tells me that your mamma has sent word for you to come home immediately. Your brother has just arrived.” “Good gracious!” I heard Miss Elliston say, and wondered a little at the slang from which I supposed her class was free. “Charlie come! Was he alone, Christine? Was no one with him?” There was a moving of chairs, a shuffling of feet and in the confusion I lost Christine’s reply, but heard distinctly Mr. Gordon’s name uttered by some one. Then the three ladies moved into the hall, and through the half-open door I saw a tall young lady in a maroon velvet street suit, with a long white plume on her hat, and very large black eyes, which shone like diamonds through the lace vail drawn tightly over her face. That was Miss Elliston; and the _very_ tall and rather stout woman in heavy black silk, with lavender trimmings, was Lady Fairfax, who pushed the door of the reception-room wide open, and with a firm, decided step crossed to the mantel in front of me, and eying me closely said: “You are Miss Burton, I believe?” “Yes,” I replied, and she continued: “Miss Norah Burton, who once lived at the Oaks in Middlesex?” “Yes,” I said again, wondering a little at the question, and how she had ever heard of the Oaks.