"She has been married and widowed. At least she says so."
"A widow, poor thing! And is she comin' to be a companion or anything?"
"She is coming as a guest."
"Oh! very well, Miss Cora; I will have the room ready in time."
When the old woman had left the room Cora sat down to her writing desk and wrote two letters—one to Mr. Fabian Rockharrt, Hotel Trois Freres, Paris; the other to Cadet Sylvanus Haught, West Point, N.Y.
When she had finished and sealed these she put them in the mail bag that was left in the hall to be taken at daybreak by the groom to North End post office. Then she retired to rest.
The next morning she breakfasted tete-a-tete with her grandfather, Mr. Clarence having remained over night at North End. While they were still at the table the man John entered with a telegram, which he laid on the table before his master.
"Who brought this?" inquired the Iron King, as he opened it.
"Joseph brought it when he came back from the post office. It had just come, and Mr. Clarence gave it to Joseph to fetch to you, sir. Yes, sir!" replied John.
"It is from Mrs. Stillwater. That lady is a perfect model of promptitude and punctuality. She says—but I had better read it to you. John, you need not wait," said Mr. Rockharrt.