“That is well,” said Lady Curtis; “for Oakley is very quiet--so quiet in winter that I much fear you will be frightened. Any stranger passing by is an event. To-day for instance, it was quite gay; a pedlar’s cart, a most picturesque object--and when you two ladies appeared, whom I had not seen before, it became quite exciting. Hyde Park is seldom so full of novelty to me.” They both stared at her a little, not knowing what to say. “The cart looked quite cheerful,” said Matilda; “I thought just like your ladyship says. Some of the baskets were quite pretty, and it was nice to see it. But I could not persuade Na--my sister, to buy any,” she concluded hurriedly. What a glance of fire shot at her from Nancy’s eyes! “We did not want them,” she said; drawing a step nearer. She was too restless to sit down; her heart indeed beat more quietly, and her breathing was calmer; but to be here in the same room with them both, talking to them indifferently, as if she did not know them, as if she was not devoured with anxiety to conciliate them!--though a touch too much might have driven her on the other side to defy them openly. For the first time, Nancy felt how little she could depend on herself. They might say something, they might even look something, that would offend her, and send her off at a tangent. She felt no strength in her to guide herself. At present, even, while there was neither offence nor _rapprochement_, how wild and breathless she was, how incapable of managing the situation! It must depend altogether on what they would do or say. “You have resources, I see,” said Lady Curtis, “Books secure one against everything. But--” she added, shutting one hastily, which she had opened on the table. “This is not common reading. Is it a girl-graduate in her golden hair that we have got among us without knowing.” She smiled graciously as she spoke. And Nancy grew red, and grew pale, and sat down, though only because her limbs trembled under her. “I know--very little,” she said, humbly, scarcely able to command her voice. “But she is not a girl at all,” said Matilda. “She is a married woman, though you would scarcely think it, my lady; and she is very fond of her book. Na--Anna, show her ladyship that beautiful drawing you are doing; that is what she thinks of most.” “The leaves? what a charming garland!” said Lady Curtis. The “rubbish” which Nancy had been amusing herself with, was fixed up against the wall with two pins. Nancy, herself, thought it was rather pretty, but nothing of course to the _étude_ in chalks. “Oh no, not that! that is all nonsense. It isn’t fit for your ladyship to look at; but look here, my lady,” said Matilda, proudly. Lady Curtis cast a careless glance at the drawing, which the sister thought so superior; then turned with much admiration to the wreath that hung against the wall.