Sink or Swim? , Volume II

A good deal to her surprise, as well as not a little to her relief, Honor was informed by the parlour-maid -- who struck her, even at a cursory glance, to be rather pert and forward -- that neither Colonel Norcott nor his wife were at home. Mrs. Norcott was "gone for a walk," Miss Lydia said (she was only Polly to the gentleman lodger). Mrs. Beacham had not been expected by such an early train, and she (Lydia) _knowed_ -- at least, so she had heard the Colonel say -- that _he_ was obliged to go out on business.

Greatly reassured by this information on the score of her father's health, Honor, who did not feel much inclined to encourage the young person's familiarity by questioning her on the subject, entered the drawing-room, and seating herself on the comfortless-looking little sofa, covered with cheap highly glazed chintz, and stuffed with some material very antagonistic to repose, betook herself to not-over-cheerful reflections. For the first few minutes, grief -- positive and unmistakeable, at being separated from her husband -- filled not only Honor's heart, but the blue eyes that looked vacantly through the confusing mist at the cheap toys and worthless ornaments with which Mrs. Norcott's work-table was crowded. Only a few short hours before, how Honor would have ridiculed the supposition that her first act under her father's roof would be -- to cry! In the distance, the coming change had seemed to her a roseate opening between two parted clouds. To escape, though only for a season, from Mrs. Beacham's despotic rule -- to leave behind her the monotony and the dulness, the daily routine of uninteresting duties, and the hourly remindings that her married life had been a blunder -- had all in their turn been subjects of rejoicing to Honor. But above all, far and away above all, there was the near prospect that the dream of her life would be at last realised, and that she would take her rightful place amongst the ladies of the land!