The Sisters

In the spacious, handsomely-furnished drawing-room of a large
country-house, two ladies sat on a quiet evening in autumn. The large
bay window looked out over extensive grounds to the blue hills beyond.
In the pale evening sky the crescent moon hung like a silver boat, the
trees in the quiet air looked black as if drawn in ink. In the grate a
large wood fire crackled, which the elder lady seemed much to enjoy as
she rubbed her hands one over another on her knee, and spoke in a low,
purring tone. The younger occupant of the room was a girl about twenty
years of age; she was fair and fragile-looking compared with her portly
companion, who was rather florid in complexion.

"Put your work away, my dear," said the elder lady; "it is getting too
dark for you to see."

"This is the last petal, auntie," said the girl, still bending her head
with its wealth of golden hair over her work. At last with a satisfied
"There!" she laid it on the table and turned towards the bay window,
through which might be seen a fair view of the park, with its
undulating knolls and clumps of trees, between which wound in flowing
curves the well-kept drive leading to the high road.

"You had better ring for the lights, Gwladys," said the elder lady, as
she settled herself to what she called "five minutes' snooze," a
slumber which generally lasted till dinner-time.

"There is a carriage coming down the drive; what can it be, auntie?"
But auntie was already in dreamland, and Gwladys stood still at the
window watching with curiosity the vehicle which drew nearer and nearer.