Miss Granger had received numerous letters from her father
during his travels, letters which were affectionate if brief; and longer
epistles from Clarissa, describing their route and adventures. They had
done Switzerland thoroughly, and had spent the last month in Rome.
The interior of the old house looked all the brighter, perhaps, because
of that dull sky and, and those sodden woods without. Fires were blazing
merrily in all the rooms; for, whatever Miss Granger's secret feelings
might be, the servants were bent on showing allegiance to the new power,
and on giving the house a gala aspect in honour of their master's return.
The chief gardener, with a temporary indifference to his own interests, had
stripped his hothouses for the decoration of the rooms, and great vases of
exotics made the atmosphere odorous, and contrasted pleasantly with the
wintry fires.
Miss Granger sat in the principal drawing-room, with her embroidery-frame
before her, determined not to be flurried or disturbed by the bride's
return. She sat at a respectful distance from the blazing logs, with a
screen interposed carefully between her complexion and the fire, the very
image of stiffness and propriety; not one of her dull-brown hairs ruffled,
not a fold of her dark green-silk dress disarranged.
The carriage was to meet the London express at Holborough station at
half-past four, and at a little before five Miss Granger heard the sound of
wheels in the avenue.
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