"All right, Tom; I am sure I'm not going to interfere," said Edith. "Good-night. Come in, Miss Aylmer; it is very cold standing out in the street."
The girls entered the house, and went up to their respective rooms. Fires were burning brightly in each and the doors stood open.
"You will come into my room and have cocoa, will you not?" said Edith to Florence.
"No, thank you; not to-night."
Edith looked full at her.
"Has Tom proposed to you?" she said suddenly.
"I don't know why you should ask me that question."
"Your face answers me. You will be a fool if you accept him. He is not the man to make any woman happy. Don't tell him that I said it; but he is cold through and through. Only one woman, poor Lucy Leigh, who died before she was twenty, ever touched his heart. What heart he had is in her grave: you will never kindle it into life. Take him if you wish for success, but do not say that I never warned you."
Edith went into her room and slammed the door somewhat noisily behind her. Florence entered hers. The late post had brought a letter—one letter. She started when she saw the postmark, and a premonition of fresh trouble came over her. Then, standing by the fire, she slowly opened the envelope. The contents were as follows:—
"Aylmer's Court, Dec. 3rd.