“And you are to have the pleasure of conducting the process of development, and Edward and I that of looking on at it--is that it? Where is she, by-the-way? Is there any danger of one’s meeting her on the stairs, and having to account for one’s self? A civilized man, encountered unexpectedly, might unsteady the nerves of the Importation--might he not?” “Possibly,” said Mrs. Gaston; “but there’s no danger. I’ve given her a room far away from yours; so you will still have the privilege of keeping unearthly hours without disturbing any one.” “Thank you; that’s very considerate; but I must be off. I want to get some papers from my room, and then I must go to keep an appointment.” “Of course! I shouldn’t know you if you hadn’t an appointment. It wouldn’t be you. Go on; but be prompt at dinner.” “You may count upon me. And, by-the-way, you’ll let me know whenever you’d like me to do anything for your young friend’s entertainment. I shall not be likely to know the tastes and predilections of the Importation, but if you think of anything I can do, I am at your service.” “Thank you; but I let her look after herself pretty much. I fancy there will be no occasion to call on you.” She threw an amount of careless weariness into her voice as she said this, that contrasted strongly with the smile of unmixed amusement with which she turned her eyes on Margaret a moment afterward, as the footsteps outside were heard ascending the staircase. “Well,” she said quietly, “that’s Louis. What do you think of him?” “How can I possibly say?” said Margaret, divided between amusement and indignation. “Surely you must have some impression of him,” Mrs. Gaston urged. “He has a very pleasant voice.” “You couldn’t fail to notice that. I was sure you would. New Englanders are somewhat maligned in the matter of voices, I think. That dreadful nasal twang, where it exists at all among the more cultivated, usually belongs to the women; though I must say Edward has some relations, male and female, who set my teeth on edge whenever they come near me. But a really beautiful voice, such as Louis’, is a rarity anywhere, and he pronounces his words so exquisitely! Only to hear him say ‘Matthew Arnold’ rests every bone in one’s body. I dare say you would have expected to hear the endless succession of double o’s, always attributed to _Noo_ Englanders!” “Oh, no!” said Margaret. “I always supposed cultivated New Englanders quite superior to that.” “They suppose themselves to be so, also,” said Cousin Eugenia; “but they are not in all cases, by any means. Edward himself had a decided tendency in that direction when I married him. I have often told him that what first suggested to me to accept him was a curiosity to see whether he would address me as ‘Oogenia,’ when he grew sentimental; and I protest he did!” Margaret could not help laughing at this, but she soon became grave again, and said seriously: “I am afraid I must be rather a _bête noir_ to Mr. Gaston.”