Cora went up stairs to get ready for her drive.
In about fifteen minutes the two were seated in the little open landau, that had been the gift of the late Mrs. Rockharrt to her beloved granddaughter, and that the latter always used when driving out in the country around Rockhold during the summer.
They did not have to cross the ferry, as the new house of Fabian Rockharrt was on the same side of the river as was Rockhold.
The road on this west side was, however, much rougher, though the scenery was much finer.
They drove on through the woods, which here clothed the foot of the mountain and grew quite down to the water's edge, meeting over their heads and casting the road into deep shadow.
They drove on for about three miles, when they came to a point where another road wound up the mountain side, through heavy woods, and brought them to a beautiful plateau, on which stood the handsome house of Fabian Rockharrt, in the midst of its groves, flower gardens, arbors, orchards and conservatories.
It was a double, two-storied house, of brown stone, with a fine green background of wooded mountain, and a front view of the river below and the mountains beyond. There were bay windows at each end and piazzas along the whole front.
As the carriage drew up before the door, Violet was discovered walking up and down the front porch. She looked very fragile, but very pretty with her slight, graceful figure in a morning dress of white muslin, with blue ribbons at her throat and in her pale gold hair.
She came down to meet her visitors.
"Oh, I am so glad you have come, Cora and Sylvan!" she said, throwing her arms around the young lady and kissing her heartily, and then giving her hand and offering her cheek for a greeting from the young man.