A Nine Day's Wonder by B.M. Croker — Read

Although it was a nice, cloudy day, and the wind perfect for fishing, Mr. Usher sacrificed himself the following afternoon upon the altar of duty. He had slept on his discovery, and had come to the conclusion that it was his office, as Lord Mulgrave's man of business, to interview this girl, whom fate had, so to speak, flung at his head; and four o'clock found him escorting his sister, Emily Usher (aged fifty, a good soul, and a bit of a blue-stocking), along a high, breezy road which ran above the lake, and at a certain sharp angle plunged into, and was lost among, dense woods which crowned the hill, and spread to the water's edge. Clouds had gathered, a thin, cold drizzle was descending, when the couple came to the elbow or joint where the long, bluish-white road turned abruptly in order to accompany the lake; they arrived at the same time at a comfortable slated cottage, with geraniums in the windows, and a crimson rambler trained over its walls. The cottage stood back in a little field, and was flanked by several outhouses. At one side was a garden full of straggling hollyhocks, currant bushes, and poultry; at the other the usual substantial turf rick. A heavy wooden gate opened directly from the field into the road -- a most excellent talking trap for passers-by, and doubtless the identical gate referred to by Mike Mahon. The general appearance of the place was well-to-do, but thriftless. A couple of pigs were rooting and grunting in the short grass; a speckled hen was perched at her ease upon the half-door; the currant bushes and apple trees exhibited a family washing; -- conspicuous among the items were pink petticoats, and black stockings.

The nice soft afternoon and the drizzle was developing into steady rain, and Mr. Usher was by no means sorry to hear his sister exclaim --