Mr. Rockharrt alighted and then gave his hand to his companion, who tripped lightly to the pavement, and let him lead her up stairs and into the house.  Cora stood at the door of the drawing room.  Mr. Rockharrt led his visitor up to his granddaughter, and said: 

“Mrs. Stillwater is very much fatigued, Cora.  Take her at once to her room and make her comfortable; and have dinner on the table by the time she is ready to come down.”

He uttered these words in a peremptory manner, without waiting for the usual greeting that should have passed between the hostess and the visitor.

Cora touched a bell.

“Oh! let me embrace my sweet Cora first of all!  Ah! my sweet child!  You and I both widowed since the last time we met!” cooed Rose, in her most dulcet tones, as she drew Cora to her bosom and kissed her before the latter could draw back.

“How do you do?” was the formal greeting that fell from the lady’s lips.

“As you see, dearest—­’Not happy, but resigned,’” plaintively replied the widow.

“You quote from a king’s minion, I think,” said Cora, coldly.

Rose took no notice of the criticism, but tenderly inquired.

“And you, dearest one?  How is it with you?”

“I am very well, thank you,” replied the lady.

“After such a terrible trial!  But you always possessed a heroic spirit.”

“We will not speak of that, Mrs. Stillwater, if you please,” was the grave reply.

Mr. Rockharrt looked around, as well as he could while old Jason was drawing off his spring overcoat, and said: 

“Take Mrs. Stillwater to her room, Cora.  Don’t keep her standing here.”

“I have rung for a servant, who will attend to Mrs. Stillwater’s needs,” replied the lady, quietly.

The Iron King turned and stared at his granddaughter angrily, but said nothing.

The housemaid came up at this moment.

“Martha, show Mrs. Stillwater to the chamber prepared for her, and wait her orders there.”

The negro woman wiped her clean hand on her clean apron—­as a mere useless form—­and then held it out to the visitor, saying, with the scorn of conventionality and the freedom of an old family servant: 

“How do Miss Rose!  ’Deed I’s mighty proud to see you ag’in—­’deed I is!  How much you has growed!  I mean, how han’some you has growed!  You allers was han’some, but now you’s han’somer’n ever!  ’Deed, honey, you’s mons’ous han’some!”

This hearty welcome and warm admiration, though only from the negro servant, helped to relieve the embarrassment of the visitor, who felt the chill of Cora’s cold reception.

“Thank you, Aunt Martha,” she said, and followed the woman up stairs.

“Why did you not attend Mrs. Stillwater to her room?” sternly demanded the Iron King, fixing his eyes severely on his granddaughter, as soon as the visitor was out of hearing.