As she came beyond the pillars of the portico, such a whirl of snow met her that she almost questioned the prudence of her decision, when a voice said, ‘It is only the drift round the corner of the house.’
‘You here?’
‘Your sister gave me leave to come and see you home through the snow-storm.’
‘Oh, thank you! This is the first time you have been here,’ she added, feeling as if her first words had been too eagerly glad.
‘Yes, I have only seen the house from a distance before. I did not know how large it was. Which part did you inhabit?’
‘There—the west wing—shut up now, poor thing!’
‘And where was the window where you saw the horse and cart? Yes, you see I know that story; which was your window?’
‘The nearest to the main body of the house. Ah! it is a
dear old window. I have seen many better things from it than that!’
‘What kind of things?’