The fresh, smiling, genial face of the young man met her there. His
kind, cordial, cheery voice addressed her: "Good morning, Hannah! I have
been down to the bay this morning, you see, bleak as it is, and the fish
bite well! See this fine rock fish! will you accept it from me? And oh,
will you let me come in and thaw out my half-frozen fingers by your
fire? or will you keep me standing out here in the cold?" he added,
smiling.

"Walk in, sir," said Hannah, inhospitably enough, as she made way for
him to enter.

He came in, wearing his picturesque fisherman's dress, carrying his
fishing-rod over his right shoulder, and holding in his left hand the
fine rock fish of which he had spoken. His eyes searched for and found
Nora, whose face was covered with the deepest blushes.

"Good morning, Nora! I hope you enjoyed yourself yesterday. Did they
take care of you after I left?" he inquired, going up to her.

"Yes, thank you, sir."

"Mr. Brudenell, will you take this chair?" said Hannah, placing one
directly before the fire, and pointing to it without giving him time to
speak another word to Nora.

"Thank you, yes, Hannah; and will you relieve me of this fish?"

"No, thank you, sir; I think you had better take it up to the madam,"
said Hannah bluntly.