a little bijou of a cottage, and Cora went to work
with a light heart. The furniture was of the very plainest kind; but
about the little rooms there was an air of comfort and refinement that
told of a woman's careful hand. Here and there hung pictures of her own
painting. In each apartment were one or two shelves, neatly stained and
varnished, on which were placed a few choice books. On the top stood the
nicely-trimmed lamp--thus making feminine ingenuity serve the double
purpose of library and bracket. The little octagon work-table, in one
corner, held a porcelain vase, daily ornamented with fresh flowers, for
in the sunny South the flowers bloom perpetually; and the white
counterpane on the small French bedstead in Cora's "spare room," tempted
one to long for an invitation from her sweet self to occupy it. How
proud and happy her husband felt as together they took their first
regular meal after the confusion was over, and Cora's housekeeping began
in good earnest!

A few weeks afterwards, she received a box containing her mother's
old-fashioned but costly set of China--and her tears fell fast and thick
as she looked once more on the well-known cups her childish lips had so
often pressed. No gift could have been so precious in her eyes, and she
kissed the souvenir of her early days with reverence. Many little
trifles had the good mother added to the welcome present--trifles that
Cora could not buy, because she could not afford it; and her heart
yearned towards her only parent, as she uncovered one after another of
the home treasures. An antique-looking silver coffee-pot, with cream-jug
and sugar-bowl, made Cora's little table look like the most _recherche_
in the land. Had Laura seen it, she would have cried with spite; for,
now that she had driven her sister-in-law from the house, the
remembrance of her own cruelty and injustice made her hatred more bitter
still. She had but one wish, and that was to see her brother and his
innocent wife in actual want!

Even in the street poor Cora was not safe from her violent rage. If by
chance they met, Laura's eye would flash, her cheeks grow pale, her lips
quiver, and she would pass, followed by Clara and Fanny, with a look of
scorn and gesture of defiance, which they would endeavor to imitate as
closely as they could, as a token of respect to their now wealthy
sister. Their father had long repented of his unkindness, but his weak
mind bent to that of Laura; and so they were as