"No, love, not yet. You've had a pleasant drive, Berenice?"
"Very pleasant."
"I thought so; you have more color than when you went. You should go out every morning, my dear."
"Yes, mamma," said the young lady, hurrying away.
Mrs. Brudenell recalled her.
"Come in here, if you please, my love; I want to have a little conversation with you."
Berenice threw her bonnet, cloak, and muff upon the hall table and entered the drawing room.
Mrs. Brudenell was alone; her daughters had not yet come down; she beckoned her son's wife to take the seat on the sofa by her side.
And when Berenice had complied she said:
"It is of yourself and Herman that I wish to speak to you, my dear."