The next morning, soon after seven o’clock, Mrs. Sinclair and her daughter started by an early train, due at Broadstone—a station on the main line—shortly before eight o’clock in the evening, which was duly reached, after a fatiguing journey, only some half-hour late. A telegram, despatched at starting, had secured them apartments at the railway hotel; to these, on their arrival, they at once retired, and, after partaking of an early supper, sought that rest they each so much stood in need of. The wind, which had been blowing in fitful gusts throughout the journey, grew in intensity as the day wore to its close, and as the night advanced it increased to the force of a hurricane. The poorer class of inhabitants trembled for the security of their little dwellings, not usually constructed in the most substantial manner. And as it swept round corners, or drove through old chimney-stacks, dislodging insecure pots on its way, the whistle became a roar as it rushed down the chimneys, or beat with fury against window-panes, which every now and then seemed on the point of yielding to the vehemence of the gale; many were the would-be sleepers whose nerves were kept on the rack, unable to rest amid the strife of elements which prevailed. As the morning dawned the wind dropped, and rain fell in torrents. The two ladies, in their strange apartments, with such a raging storm outside, passed a very restless and almost sleepless night, so that they felt but little refreshed when the time for rising arrived. Breakfast over, and as the rain continued to descend in torrents without any apparent indications of its early cessation, although the distance to be traversed was trivial, they ordered a cab to be at the door by eleven o’clock, in which they duly made their appearance at the offices of the factory in Broadstone. Finding the partners were to be seen, they sent up their cards, and, instructing the cabman to wait, were ushered into the private office of the firm, where the two gentlemen were seated. After greeting them with that warmth and friendliness which is a marked feature in the character of the natives of the Midlands, and which also, from the long-standing friendship existing, might naturally have been anticipated, they sought to know the nature of the special business to which they felt so unexpected a visit was due. Speaking with much emotion, and not without a strong effort to control her feelings, Mrs. Sinclair, whose pallid features bore vivid traces of unmistakable suffering, said— "I yesterday received a letter which, when I show you, will, I expect, be as much a surprise to you as it was to myself and daughter." Pausing for a few moments, as she searched in her pocket for the letter referred to, she added, as soon as the important document was brought to light, "If you will kindly read this, it will fully explain the object of my visit much better than I should be able to do."