A SURPRISE.
She ran down-stairs briskly enough now, and ran out of the front door.
"Any letters to-day, Jerome?" she inquired.
"No, miss," answered Jerome, shaking his head.
"Oh, dear, how depressing!" sighed Emma, as she turned to go into the house.
But a sound arrested her steps—the opening of the carriage-door. She turned and saw Jerome standing before it and in the act of helping some one to alight from the carriage.
Another moment and a tall, thin, dark-eyed woman, with very white hair, and clad in the deepest widow's weeds, stood before Miss Cavendish.
By instinct Emma recognized her aunt. And she felt very much relieved, and very much rejoiced to see her, even while wondering that she should have come unannounced either by letter or telegram.
As for Jerome, he stood wickedly enjoying his young lady's astonishment, and looking as if he himself had performed a very meritorious action.
"Miss Emma Cavendish, I presume?" said the stranger, a little hesitatingly.