n up the path as quickly as you can,
for you can hardly hold up an umbrella in this wind. You see the cottage
does not boast of a carriage-drive.'

That odious Mr. Hamilton--or Dr. Hamilton, which was it? No wonder he
looked like a Romish priest if he could make those Jesuitical remarks!
I felt I almost hated him, but I resolved to banish him from my mind,
as I ran past the dripping laurels that bordered the narrow path. The
cottage door was open as soon as our fly had stopped at the gate; and
by the light I could see the neat flower-borders and clipped yews, and
a leafless wide-spreading tree with a seat under it. As I made my way
into the porch, a very big man without his coat passed me with a civil
'good-evening.' I thought it must be Nathaniel, from his great height,
and of course the prim-looking little widow in black, standing on the
threshold, was Mrs. Barton. She had a nice, plaintive face, and spoke
in a mild, deprecating voice.

'Good-evening, Mrs. Barton. What dreadful weather! I hope my wet boxes
will not spoil the oilcloth.'

'That is easily wiped off, Miss Garston; but I am thinking the damp must
have made you chilly. Come into the parlour: there is a fine rousing fire
that will soon warm you. A fire is a deal of comfort on a wet, cool
night. I have lighted one in your bedroom too.'

Evidently Mrs. Barton spared herself no trouble. I was a fire-worshipper,
and loved to see the ruddy flame lighting up all the odd corners, and I
was glad to think both my rooms would be cheerful. The parlour looked the
picture of comfort; my piano was nicely placed, and the davenport, and
the chair that I had sent with it. A large old-fashioned couch was drawn
across the window, the round table had a white cloth on it, and the
tea-tray and a cottage loaf were suggestive of a meal. The room was long
and rather low, but the bow-window gave it a cosy aspect; one glance
satisfied me that I had space for the principal part of my books, the
rest could be put in my bedroom. When Mrs. Barton stirred the fire and
lighted the candles the room looked extremely cheerful, especially as
Tinker, the collie, had taken a fancy to the rug, and had stretched
himself upon it after giving me a wag of his tail as a welcome. Mrs.
Barton would hardly give me time to warm my hands before she begged me
to follow her upstairs and take off my things while they brought in the
luggage.

I found my bedroom had one peculiarity: you had to descend two b