Everything was in perfect order to-day, and Frances gave a little sigh of satisfaction as she looked about her; it was all so warm and beautiful, with a stately sort of beauty that was very impressive. She sat as still as a mouse, listening to the ticking of some unseen clock.
Emma stayed a long time, and presently Frances whispered, "Zenobia, there is a picture I want to see, and I am just going to peep in that door; I'll be back in a minute;" and she stole softly across the hall as if afraid she might break the stillness.
The room she entered was a library, spacious and beautiful; but Frances thought of nothing but the portrait, which in the softened light that came from the curtained windows was more charming than ever.
"'Little girl, I wish I knew you'"
"Little girl, I wish I knew you," she said half aloud, standing before it, her eyes bright from her walk in the keen air, her cheeks the deepest rose.
On the hearth a wood fire smouldered, breaking into little gleams of flame now and then.
"If you would only come down and talk to me, and tell me who you are," Frances continued under her breath, unconsciously taking the attitude of the picture girl who smiled down on her so brightly.
The fire purred softly, and there was added to this sound after a little a gentle rustle which, though she heard it, seemed so a part of the quiet that she gave it no thought. Then, suddenly, as if she had been awakened from a dream, she became conscious of the presence of some one near her.