had
been some little sculptured light-bearer. She did not return his
smile, and she did not ask him in. She simply regarded him with her
sharp, innocent, illuminated face. Robert felt ridiculously
nonplussed.

"Did you say she was in, my dear?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," replied Amabel, then relapsed into silence.

"Can I see her?" asked Robert, desperately.

"I don't know," replied Amabel. Then she stood still, as before,
holding the lamp.

Robert began to wonder what he was to do, when he heard a woman's
voice calling from the sitting-room at the end of the hall, the door
of which had been left ajar:

"Amabel Tenny, what are you doin'? You are coldin' the house all
off! Who is it?"

"It's a man, Aunt Fanny," called Amabel.

"Who is the man?" asked the voice. Then, much to Robert's relief,
Fanny herself appeared.

She colored a flaming red when she saw him. She looked at Amabel as
if she had an impulse to shake her.

"Why, Mr. Lloyd, is it you?" she cried.

"Good-evening, Mrs. Brewster; is--is your daughter at home?" asked
Robert. He felt inclined to roar with laughter, and yet a curious
dismay was beginning to take possession of him.

"Yes, Ellen is at home," replied Fanny, with alacrity. "Walk in, Mr.
Lloyd." She was blushing and smiling as if she had been her own
daughter. It was foolish, yet pathetic. Although Fanny asked the
young man to walk in, and snatched the lamp peremptorily from
Amabel's hand, she still hesitated. Robert began to wonder if he
should ever be admitted. He did not dream of the true reason for the
hesitation. There was no fire in the parlor, and in the sitting-room
were Andrew, John Sargent, and Mrs. Wetherhed. It seemed to her
highly important that Ellen should see her caller by herself, but
how to take him into that cold parlor?

Finally, however, she made up her mind to do so. She opened the
parlor door.

"Please walk in this way, Mr. Lloyd," said she, and Robert followed
her in.

It was a bitter night outside, and the temperature in the unused
room was freezing. The windows behind the cheap curtains were
thickly furred with frost.

"Please be seated," said Fanny.

She indicated the large easy-chair, and Robert seated himself
without removing his outer coat, yet the icy cold of the cushions
struck through him.

Fanny ignited a match to light the best lamp with its painted globe.
Her fingers trembled. She had to use three matches before she was
successful.

"Can't