d breathed such sweet praise in her ears. And so musing, Nora
fell asleep, and her reverie passed into dreams.

Early the next morning the sisters were up. The weather had changed with
the usual abruptness of our capricious climate. The day before had been
like June. This day was like January. A dark-gray sky overhead, with
black clouds driven by an easterly wind scudding across it, and
threatening a rain storm.

The sisters hurried through their morning work, got their frugal
breakfast over, put their room in order, and sat down to their daily
occupation--Hannah before her loom, Nora beside her spinning-wheel. The
clatter of the loom, the whir of the wheel, admitted of no conversation
between the workers; so Hannah worked, as usual, in perfect silence, and
Nora, who ever before sung to the sound of her humming wheel, now mused
instead. The wind rose in occasional gusts, shaking the little hut in
its exposed position on the hill.

"How different from yesterday," sighed Nora, at length.

"Yes, dear; but such is life," said Hannah. And there the conversation
ended, and only the clatter of the loom and the whir of the wheel was
heard again, the sisters working on in silence. But hark! Why has the
wheel suddenly stopped and the heart of Nora started to rapid beating?

A step came crashing through the crisp frost, and a hand was on the
door-latch.

"It is Mr. Brudenell! What can he want here?" exclaimed Hannah, in a
tone of impatience, as she arose and opened the door.

The fresh, smiling, genial face of the young man met her there. His
kind, cordial, cheery voice addressed her: "Good morning, Hannah! I have
been down to the bay this morning, you see, bleak as it is, and the fish
bite well! See this fine rock fish! will you accept it from me? And oh,
will you let me come in and thaw out my half-frozen fingers by your
fire? or will you keep me standing out here in the cold?" he added,
smiling.

"Walk in, sir," said Hannah, inhospitably enough, as she made way for
him to enter.

He came in, wearing his picturesque fisherman's dress, carrying his
fishing-rod over his right shoulder, and holding in his left hand the
fine rock fish of which he had spoken. His eyes searched for and found
Nora, whose face was covered with the deepest blushes.

"Good morning, Nora! I hope you enjoyed yourself yesterday. Did they
take care of you after I left?" he inquired, going up to her.

"Yes, thank you, sir."

"Mr. Brudenell, will