John Dudgeon was right. Ella Bedford’s luggage was directed to Mrs Brandon’s, Copse Hall, Laneton, to reach which, unless a fly had been engaged to convey her across country, Ella had to go up to town by one line, and then take her ticket by another. This she did, and reached Copse Hall, a gloomy-looking dwelling, late one evening, her heart sinking as the station fly conveyed her down a muddy lane, on the Croppley Magna road. The hedges were heavy, and the trees seemed all weeping—drip, drip, drip—while an occasional gust of wind drove the rain against the fly window.

Cold, sombre-looking, and bare was the house; and feeling that the refuge she had sought by means of advertising would be to her as a prison, Ella descended from the fly. A tall hard-looking footman opened the door, and kept her standing on the mat of a great bare hall, whose floor was polished oak, and whose ornaments were a set of harsh stiff-backed chairs, that looked as if they had been made out of old coffin boards, while the cold wind rushed through and shut a door somewhere in the back regions with an echoing bang.

“There’ll be a row about that,” said the hard-faced footman, as he set down the second trunk and closed the door, and the flyman drove off. “Missus hates the doors to bang, and they will do it when the wind’s in the south. You’re to come in here, please, Miss—Bedford, isn’t it?”

Trembling, in spite of her efforts to be calm, Ella responded to his query, and then followed the footman to a great gaunt-looking door. He opened it, and announced, “Miss Bedford.” She advanced a few steps, seeing nothing for the blinding tears that would stand in her eyes—tears that she had much difficulty to keep from falling. Then the door was closed behind her, and she felt two warm soft hands take hers, and that she was drawn towards a great glowing fire.

“Why, my dear child!” said a pleasant voice, “you are chilled through. Come this way.”

Then, as in a dream, she felt herself placed in a soft yielding easy-chair, her bonnet and mantle removed, the same soft hands smoothing back her hair, and then, as a pair of warm lips were pressed to hers, the same voice said gently:

“Welcome to Copse Hall, my love! I hope it will prove to you a happy home.”

Ella started to her feet as those words thrilled through her; words so new, so tender, so motherly, that she could no longer restrain her feelings, but threw herself, sobbing violently, upon the gentle breast that seemed to welcome her; for two arms pressed her tightly there for a few moments. Then there were soothing whispers, soft hands caressing her; and at last Ella was seated calm and tranquil at Mrs Brandon’s feet, feeling that, after the storms of the past, a haven of safety had been reached; and long was the converse which followed, as inge............