“Well, Pina, I trust that he will run no risk. But, in case he should come, we must have everything ready for him as usual. The worse the weather, the more comfort he will want. So you must dress the wild duck for the roaster, and I will make a little cabinet pudding,” said Pina’s mistress, tying on an apron and tucking up her sleeves.
“We may prepare for him, ma’am, but he will never return such a night as this, you may take my word for that. It would be as much as his life and limbs are worth to attempt it,” answered the girl.
These words made the young wife very uneasy. Much as she wished for his presence, she now prayed that he might not set out to return. And it was with some comfort she reflected that Alexander never unnecessarily ran any risk; that he would certainly be able to judge of the dangers of the roads, and would as certainly avoid them. Still, in the event of his returning that night, she was determined to have everything ready for him.
As night deepened, it grew colder and colder. Outside it was like the polar regions. There
“Dread winter spread his latest glooms
And reigned tremendous—”
—all darkness, snow and ice.
Inside, all was light, warmth and comfort.
In the drawing-room a large bright fire was burning; the little table was laid for supper; the easy chair and the warm slippers were ready.
At ten o’clock, Drusilla, as usual, would have dismissed her maid to bed, but the girl pleaded to remain up “for this once” with her mistress.