The apartment already described as that usually inhabited by the Duchess of Powis was a corner room, and was lighted by windows on two sides. Lady Winifred habitually established herself in one of those which looked towards the east; it commanded the most extensive view; and, moreover, when gazing in that direction, her thoughts o'erleaped the space between, and wandered towards the friends and playmates of her childhood. From the other, to the south, could be seen the approach of travellers from some distance. If her brother only had been expected, probably she would have placed herself so as to command a view of the road, but now she scarcely ventured to turn her eyes that way: she sat with her face bent low over her frame, almost breathlessly listening to every sound. The castle clock struck three. The Duchess of Powis wondered her visitors had not yet arrived. She desired her daughter to look out towards the southern entrance, and tell her whether she saw any one approaching. "Yes, madam!" answered Lady Winifred, in a voice scarcely audible. "Well, my child, whom and what do you see?" "There are four horsemen, madam, riding quickly up the hill." "Then I imagine we may order dinner to be served," answered the mother, who was accustomed to the strictest punctuality. "How near are they?" "They are even now entering the castle gate;" and Lady Winifred sunk on the window-seat, while her eyes became so dizzy she could scarcely distinguish anything farther. A vague indistinct recollection of sister Margaret's French friend, Eugénie de St. Mesnil, and of the betrothed in blue and silver--a confused thought of Amy's expression, "old and ugly," ran through her brain--when her mother bade her ring the bell: she obeyed; and rallying herself, she returned to the embroidery, which she hoped would assist her in recovering from her confusion. In a few moments footsteps were heard in the adjoining apartment; the clank of boots--the sound of voices. The door opened; and the Marquis, or, as he was more usually called, the Duke of Powis, advanced to his mother, and having kissed her hand, was folded in her maternal embrace; while Lady Winifred, having risen mechanically from her seat, stood pale and immovable behind her. "My sister?" inquired the duke. "Our dear Winifred," replied the duchess; and, to her utter surprise and confusion, the Lady Winifred suddenly found herself embraced by a bluff, gay, honest-looking man, who was indeed her brother. "And now, my lady mother, you must allow me to present to you my friend and companion, the Earl of Nithsdale, who has been my host for the last three weeks, which I have passed with him at Terreagles." The Earl of Nithsdale, who had hitherto kept in the background, now advanced with a graceful and respectful bow to make his obeisances to the duchess, who then presented him to her daughter.