The Monday morning on which Mary Carson was to appear "bright and
early" at the dwelling of Mrs. Lowe, came round, but it was far from
being a bright morning. An easterly storm had set in during the
night; the rain was falling fast, and the wind driving gustily. A
chilliness crept through the frame of Miss Carson as she arose from
her bed, soon after the dull light began to creep in drearily
through the half closed shutters of her room. The air, even within
her chamber, felt cold, damp, and penetrating. From her window a
steeple clock was visible. She glanced at the face, and saw that it
was nearly seven.
"So late as that!" she exclaimed, in a tone of surprise, and
commenced dressing herself in a hurried, nervous way. By the time
she was ready to leave her room, she was exhausted by her own
excited haste.
"Mary," said a kind voice, calling to her as she was moving down
stairs, "you are not going out this morning."
"Oh, yes, ma'am," she answered, in a cheerful voice. "I have an
engagement for to-day."
"But the storm is too severe. It's raining and blowing dreadfully.
Wait an hour or two until it holds up a little."
"Oh dear, no, Mrs. Grant! I can't stop for a trifle of rain."
"It's no trifle of rain this morning, let me tell you, Mary. You'll
get drenched to the skin. Now don't go out, child!"
"I must indeed, Mrs. Grant. The lady expects me, and I cannot
disappoint her.
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