Celeste and Elisha live down in the city. Eletheer expects to graduate from a training school for nurses in New England next year, and Cornelia has developed into the family beauty. In point of resemblance, she is all her grandmother could have wished, a De Vere, every inch. Reuben and Margaret are unchanged.
Point Wawanda is no more, and where it once towered the shaft-house now rears its unsightly walls. But what has been lost in the picturesque has been compensated by material benefit.
Deep down in the bowels of the earth is an underground city in whose streets the miners are delving and sending the precious metal to the surface.
Something unusual is in the wind at The Laurels. All is excitement and bustle of preparation for some great event. Again and again are the rooms inspected to see that everything is all right, the fires are kept burning that no one may take cold. Four o’clock brings Celeste who, with Elisha, will be among those to receive Jack and Dora with the niece and nephews, who are the only grandchildren.
Celeste is a trifle more matronly, which only enhances her beauty, and she follows Cornelia about the house, Cornelia feeling that if Celeste approves there is no cause for criticism.
Jack is coming home and the telegram said he would reach Nootwyck to-morrow morning.
The air had been spring-like all day with occasional flurries of snow, but by evening the ground was white. As night came on, the flakes fell faster and faster and by bedtime the storm had girded up its loins and turned into a raging one. It meant business, for there was no promise of a lull. A large body of old snow still lay on the ground and by morning over a foot had been added to it while it was still falling furiously. The air was filled with great feathery flakes and the way the snow piled up was amazing. The wind increased every hour and by ten o’clock great clouds of snow were sent whirling about and piling up so that it was impossible to see beyond a few feet.
The De Veres grew anxious. No sound of a locomotive’s whistle since seven o’clock and now it was noon.
“They are probably in New York City,” said Mr. De Vere.
“But the train leaves there at seven o’clock and at that time no one could have expected this Dakota blizzard,” Mrs. De Vere protested.