A light had touched her countenance, dispelling years of premature age; she was still a handsome woman; she could still find in her heart the courage for a strong decision.
There was no maid--Mrs.Hannaford herself laid upon the table what was to serve for an evening meal; and she had just done so when her daughter came in.

Olga had changed considerably in the past three years; at one-and-twenty she would have passed for several years older; her complexion was fatigued, her mouth had a nervous mobility which told of suppressed suffering, her movements were impatient, irritable.
But at this moment she did not wear a look of unhappiness; there was a glow in her fine eyes, a tremour of resolve on all her features.

On entering the room where her mother stood, she at once noticed a change.
Their looks met: they gazed excitedly at each other.
"What is it?
Why have you dressed ?" "Because I am a free woman.

My sister is dead, and has left me a lot of money." They rushed into each other's arms; they caressed with tears and sobs; it was minutes before they could utter more than broken phrases and exclamations.
"What shall you do ?" the girl asked at length, holding her mother's hand against her heart.

Of late there had been unwonted conflict between them, and in the reaction of joy they became all tenderness.
"What I ought to have done long ago--go and live away----" "Will it be possible, dear ?" "It shall be!" exclaimed the mother vehemently.