Diana　had　a　voice　toned；　to　my　ear；　like　the　cooing　of　a　dove。　She　possessed　eyes　whose　gaze　I　delighted　to　encounter。　Her　whole　face　seemed　to　me　fill　of　charm。　Mary’s　countenance　was　equally　intelligent—her　features　equally　pretty；　but　her　expression　was　more　reserved；　and　her　manners；　though　gentle；　more　distant。　Diana　looked　and　spoke　with　a　certain　authority：　she　had　a　will；　evidently。　It　was　my　nature　to　feel　pleasure　in　yielding　to　an　authority　supported　like　hers；　and　to　bend；　where　my　conscience　and　self…respect　permitted；　to　an　active　will。

“And　what　business　have　you　here？”　she　continued。　“It　is　not　your　place。　Mary　and　I　sit　in　the　kitchen　sometimes；　because　at　home　we　like　to　be　free；　even　to　license—but　you　are　a　visitor；　and　must　go　into　the　parlour。”

“I　am　very　well　here。”

“Not　at　all；　with　Hannah　bustling　about　and　covering　you　with　flour。”

“Besides；　the　fire　is　too　hot　for　you；”　interposed　Mary。

“To　be　sure；”　added　her　sister。　“e；　you　must　be　obedient。”　And　still　holding　my　hand　she　made　me　rise；　and　led　me　into　the　inner　room。

“Sit　there；”　she　said；　placing　me　on　the　sofa；　“while　we　take　our　things　off　and　get　the　tea　ready；　it　is　another　privilege　we　exercise　in　our　little　moorland　home—to　prepare　our　own　meals　when　we　are　so　inclined；　or　when　Hannah　is　baking；　brewing；　washing；　or　ironing。”

She　closed　the　door；　leaving　me　solus　with　Mr。　St。　John；　who　sat　opposite；　a　book　or　newspaper　in　his　hand。　I　examined　first；　the　parlour；　and　then　its　occupant。

The　parlour　was　rather　a　small　room；　very　plainly　furnished；　yet　fortable；　because　clean　and　neat。　The　old…fashioned　chairs　were　very　bright；　and　the　walnut…wood　table　was　like　a　looking…glass。　A　feen　and　women　of　other　days　decorated　the　stain