CHAPTER III.

DORA'S RELATIVES.


There hundred miles to the westward, and the storm, which, on New
Year's eve, swept so furiously over all parts of the State, was
perceptible only in the dull, gray clouds which obscured the
wintry sky, shutting out the glimmering starlight, and apparently
making still brighter the many cheerful lights which shone forth
from the handsome dwellings in the village of Dunwood. Still the
night was intensely cold, and, as Mrs. Sarah Deane, in accordance
with her daughter Eugenia's request, added a fresh bit of coal to
the already well-filled stove, she sighed involuntarily, wishing
the weather would abate, for the winter's store of fuel was
already half gone, and the contents of her purse were far too
scanty to meet the necessity of her household, and at the same
time minister to the wants of her extravagant daughters.

"But I can economize in one way," she said, half aloud, and
crossing the room she turned down the astral lamp which was
burning brightly upon the table.

"Don't, pray mother, make it darker than a dungeon!" petulantly
exclaimed Eugenia, herself turning back the lamp. "I do like to
have rooms light enough to see one's self;" and glancing
complacently at the reflection of her handsome face, in the mirror
opposite, she resumed her former lounging attitude upon the sofa.