The rain, that had come after the snow, had ceased in its turn, blown clear, like some light curtain, by a blast of northwest wind. Mr. Wemyss, as he entered the carriage, had ventured to lift her hand once to his lips; and then they both sat silent, Flossie looking thoughtfully out of the carriage window, her companion on the front seat looking at her. It was already freezing; for the horses dragged them heavily through the crackling snow; and Flossie could see that the pools of water in the street were already needle-pointed with the forming ice. As they passed the cross-streets, she noticed a ruddy reflection on the face of these. “Can that be dawn already?” She let down the window; and, looking out, saw all the east a lowering, lurid red. “I do not think so,” said Mr. Wemyss. “’Tis hardly six o’clock. It must be some great fire at Brooklyn, or at Williamsburgh.” They stopped at Mrs. Gower’s house; and requesting, or rather, ordering, Mr. Wemyss to stay in the carriage, she ran lightly up the steps and let herself in. All the servants had gone to bed, by Mrs. Gower’s orders; save Justine, her maid, who was sitting waiting, with one candle, in the hall. “Is everything ready, Justine?” “Oui, madame,” said the maid; who had been told that her mistress was about to make a sudden trip to Boston, and had discreetly asked no unnecessary questions; her perquisites had been very handsome lately. Flossie went up to her room, the maid attending her; and laid aside her ball-dress and her diamonds. Then she had a woman’s humor; and notwithstanding that Mr. Wemyss was waiting cold outside, she threw the satin cloak once more over her bare shoulders and wandered, with a lighted candle, all through the house. She went into the great ball-room which seemed gaunt and bare; then into the dark dining-room with its carved oak wood and its array of armor and of silver plate; then into the parlors where she had held her first reception--how well she remembered it, and her triumph over the great ladies Van Kull and the fine ladies Brevier!--and last to the little suite of rooms which she had occupied when first she came back from her wedding-journey. Poor Lucie! She wondered if he would really mind much.