Colin was too much absorbed, too anxious, and felt too deeply how much was involved, to be capable even of rising up to greet her as an indifferent man would have done. He sat and gazed at her as she darted in like a fairy creature, bringing every kind of radiance in her train. “Here they are, aunty!” cried Miss Matty; and she came in flying in her cloak, with the hood still over her head and great raindrops on it, which she had caught as she jumped out of the carriage. While Colin sat gazing at her, wondering if it was some deluding apparition, or, in reality, the new revelation of life and love that it seemed to be, Matty had thrown herself upon Sir Thomas and woke the worthy baronet by kissing him, which was a pretty sight to behold. “Here we are, uncle; wake up!” cried Matty; “my lady ran to the nursery first, but I came to you, as I always do.” And the little witch looked up at Colin, with a glance under which heaven and earth changed to the lad. He stumbled to his feet, while Sir Thomas rubbed his astonished eyes. What could Colin say? He stood waiting for a word, seeing the little figure in a halo of light and fanciful glory. “How do you do? I knew you were here,” said Miss Matty, putting out two fingers to him while she still hung over her uncle. And presently Lady Frankland came in, and the room became full of pleasant din and commotion as was inevitable. When Colin made a move as if to leave them, fearful of being in the way, Miss Matty called to him, “Oh, don’t go, please; we are going to have tea, and my lady must be served without giving her any trouble, and I want you to help me,” said Matty; and so the evening that had begun in gloom ended in a kind of subdued glory too sweet to be real; surely too good to be true.