Both fingers and eyes were tired, but Miss Pengarvon went on doggedly with her work. She finished her task as the clock was striking eleven. With a sigh of relief she rose from her chair, and began to put away her silks and needles and other materials. While thus engaged she started suddenly; she felt nearly sure that she had heard a knocking at the front door. She waited without stirring for a couple of minutes. Yes, there it was again--the unmistakable sound of some one knocking at the great door of the Hall. Who could be seeking admittance at that late hour? The visitors at the Hall were so few that Miss Pengarvon was utterly nonplussed, Barney Dale and his wife, when they should return, would gain admittance through the back premises, of which they had the key. There might be thieves or tramps abroad, who knew that there was no one but women in the house. But Miss Pengarvon was a woman of nerve, and not readily frightened. She was still waiting and hesitating when the knocking sounded for the third time, but less loudly than before. At the best it had been a timorous and half-hearted sort of summons, with little or no self-assertion about it. Miss Pengarvon hesitated no longer. Taking up one of the two candlesticks, for there was no light in any other part of the house, she flung open the door of the Green Parlor and passed into the dark corridor beyond, shading the candle with her hand as she went. From the corridor she passed into the entrance-hall, strange, weird shadows seeming to start into life from wall and ceiling, as though they had been suddenly disturbed in their sleep, as she crossed it with her feeble light. Before her was the great door, iron clamped, and fastened with bolt and chain. Putting down her candle on a side table, Miss Pengarvon went up to the door and laid her hand on one of the bolts. Then she hesitated. She knew not who might be outside, and she was but one lonely woman. Then with a gesture of impatience at her own timidity, she undid the heavy bolts and locks one by one, but was careful to leave the guard chain still up. Then she pulled open the door as far as the chain would allow. A gust of frosty air, that cut almost like a knife, leaped suddenly in, bringing with it a shower of powdered snow and extinguishing the candle. Miss Pengarvon, peering out into the snowy night, saw a female figure, hooded and cloaked from head to foot, standing on the topmost of the broad, shallow flight of steps which led up to the door. As she looked a dire presentiment shook her from head to foot, as few things else in the world could have shaken her, but her voice was clear and stern when she spoke: "Who are you, and what is your business here at this untimely hour?" she demanded. The figure outside came a step nearer. "I am Isabel--your sister," was uttered in broken accents. "I have been walking till I can walk no longer. I have not tasted food since morning. I want shelter and rest for to-night--only for to-night."