“The floor was inlaid and waxed, and so slippery that, she came near falling as she first crossed the threshold. A few Persian rugs were thrown down here and there, and at the further end, near to a deep alcove, was a massive rosewood bed with lace and silken hangings, and heavy tassels with knotted fringe. On the bed was a light blue satin spread, covered with real Valenciennes lace of a most exquisite pattern, and Anna stood a moment in wonder to look at and marvel at its richness. Then her eyes went on to the alcove, across which lace curtains were stretched, and which was daintily fitted up with the appliances of the toilet, with the bath-room just beyond. All this was at the far end of the room, the remainder of which might have served as a boudoir for the empress herself, it was so exquisitely furnished with everything which the ingenuity of Paris could devise in the way of fauteuil, ottoman, easy-chair, and lounge, with mosaic tables from Florence, inlaid cabinets from Rome, lovely porcelains from Munich and full-length mirrors from Marseilles. “‘This is your room; how do you like it?’ Mr. Haverleigh asked: and Annie replied: “‘I wish mother and Mary knew. I wish they could be here too. Only the windows are kind of prison-like, they are so long and narrow, and so deep in the wall.’ “As she said this she entered one of the arched recesses and tried to look from the window, but it was almost too high for her, and by standing on tip-toe she could just look over the ledge and get a view of the tree-tops in the grounds, of rocky hills beyond, and in the far distance a bit of the blue Mediterranean, which brought back to her mind a day at the seaside, where she had gone with a picnic party and bathed in the Atlantic. That day seemed so very, very far back in the past, and the ocean waves she had watched as they broke upon the beach was so far, far away that again that throb of homesickness swept over her, and there were tears in her eyes when she turned from the window and came back into the salon. It was empty, for both her husband and Madame Verwest had left it, and she was free to look about her as much as she liked, and to examine the many beautiful things with which the salon was filled. But they did not quite satisfy her now, for that pang of pain was still in her heart cutting like a knife, and her thoughts went back to the day when she and Mary had fitted the cheap ingrain carpet and white curtains to the little parlor at home, and thought it, when done, the finest room in Millfield. The carpet and curtains were there still, but oh, how many miles and miles of land and sea lay between her and the humble surroundings she had once so fretted against, longing for something better! She had the something better, but it did not satisfy, and it was so dreadful to be in a strange land where she could not understand a word the people said, and it would be still more dreadful without Mr.