It was yet early in the afternoon when Berenice reached Brudenell Hall.

Before going to her own apartments she looked into the drawing room, and
seeing Mrs. Brudenell, inquired:

"Any news of Herman yet, mamma, dear?"

"No, love, not yet. You've had a pleasant drive, Berenice?"

"Very pleasant."

"I thought so; you have more color than when you went. You should go out
every morning, my dear."

"Yes, mamma," said the young lady, hurrying away.

Mrs. Brudenell recalled her.

"Come in here, if you please, my love; I want to have a little
conversation with you."

Berenice threw her bonnet, cloak, and muff upon the hall table and
entered the drawing room.

Mrs. Brudenell was alone; her daughters had not yet come down; she
beckoned her son's wife to take the seat on the sofa by her side.

And when Berenice had complied she said:

"It is of yourself and Herman that I wish to speak to you, my dear."