The pure, grave, and gentle expression of Clara's countenance
touched the heart of Capitola.

The bright, frank, honest face of Cap recommended her to Clara.

The very opposite traits of their equally truthful characters
attracted them to each other.

Clara conducted her guest back into the wainscoted parlor, where a
cheerful fire had been kindled to correct the dampness of the air.
And here they sat down unmindful of the storm that came much subdued
through the thickness of the walls. And, as young creatures, however
tried and sorrowful, will do, they entered into a friendly chat. And
before an hour had passed Capitola thought herself well repaid for
her sufferings from the storm and the rebuff, in having formed the
acquaintance of Clara Day.

She resolved, let Old Hurricane rage as he might, henceforth she
would be a frequent visitor to the Hidden House.

And Clara, for her part, felt that in Capitola she had found a
frank, spirited, faithful neighbor who might become an estimable
friend.

While they were thus growing into each other's favor, the door
opened and admitted a gentleman of tall and thin figure and white
and emaciated face, shaded by a luxuriant growth of glossy black
hair and beard. He could not have been more than twenty-six, but,
prematurely broken by vice, he seemed forty years of age. He