“Dear lady, I know that you feel very unpleasantly, that all those gay city strangers should be coming down here at Christmas, to turn the quiet house into a hall of orgies. But I do not see how you can prevent it. You can elude it, though! You can go to Hardbargain, you know, and remain until Mrs. Georgia and her guests have departed again. I would do that.” “No, dear Catherine, there will be no necessity for that, either! My Aunt Cabell has anticipated my embarrassment, and proposed a plan. My aunt and all her family are coming down here to spend the months of October and November, while their city mansion is undergoing repairs—painting, papering, and so on. And she proposes that I shall return with her at the first of December, and pass the Winter in Richmond.” “And will you go?” “I do not know. But, Kate, dear, you have comforted me so much, and aunt’s account of Mrs. Georgia’s city airs has diverted me so much, that I think I have spirits for a ride. Go order the horses, and tell Dandy to be ready to attend us. We will go up to Hardbargain and take tea with Aunt Clifton, and amuse her with this letter!” * * * * * Mrs. Cabell and her daughters, attended by Major Cabell, arrived in due time, and were received with great pleasure by their orphaned relative. And Catherine, now that she was no longer necessary to the cheerfulness of Miss Clifton, took leave and returned to her brother’s cot. Life in the mansion, and life in the hut, like day and night, about equally divided the girl’s experience—a strange lot, to be ever alternating between luxury and refinement, and poverty and coarseness. And though it was a wonderfully strengthening discipline, Kate found the contrast so painful as to wish that life would change—in some way. A month passed away—during which she heard nothing whatever from White Cliffs. She was therefore in total ignorance of what was going on there, until one cold morning that had succeeded a snow-stormy night, while she was shoveling away the snow in front of the cottage door, Dandy rode up and delivered her a note from Miss Clifton. The note ran thus: “DEAR CATHERINE,— “I am going to leave for Richmond with Aunt Clifton to-morrow morning. Come over, dear girl, and let me take leave of you before I start. Come, my good, wise Catherine, for I want to consult you about a certain matter. “Your friend CAROLYN.” Kate saddled her pony and set out, attended by Dandy. As soon as she arrived at White Cliffs, she was invited immediately up into Miss Clifton’s room. She found the young lady surrounded with trunks and bandboxes, and busy with her maids, packing. Carolyn dismissed her attendants, begged Kate to be seated, and sat down by her. After a few mutual inquiries about health and so on, and a little introductory conversation, and some considerable hesitation, Miss Clifton said—