And then the language! I could not understand it, and yet it sounded as if I ought to know every word. Presently we turned off the quay, the Boomtzees as they call it, and went through two or three narrow streets, and over more bridges than I ever counted afterward. At last we came into a kind of little place or square where grass was growing, and flowers blooming in little parterres like the figures in a Persian rug. This square was surrounded by neat houses, as fantastically decorated as those we had seen before, and looking as if no dust or smoke had ever dared to come near them. At the largest and handsomest of these, my uncle stopped. "This is our house," said he. "Pray God we find all well." He knocked as he spoke, but had hardly withdrawn his hand from the knocker, when a light foot was heard on the stairs, and Avice, looking not at all like a heart-broken widow, threw herself into her father's arms, and drew him into the house. I followed, feeling somehow inexpressibly forlorn and lonely. "Why how is this?" asked my uncle, holding Avice off and looking at her. "Methinks my drooping flower is blooming again." "Ay, and with good reason," answered Avice. "After all our fears, Garrett has come home safe and sound, and not much the worse for his captivity among the Moors." "Heaven be praised! But, daughter, you do not speak to your guest. Do you not know her?" Avice turned—I verily believe she had taken no note of me before—and looked at me for a moment with a gaze so like one of her old innocent looks of wonder, that I could not forbear smiling. "Loveday, it is Loveday!" she exclaimed, and I had no cause to find fault with my welcome. I was led up stairs all in a moment, and into a parlor where sat my Aunt Holland, looking not so much older than when I saw her last. What a meeting it was. How we women talked and laughed and cried, and asked endless questions and staid for no answers. How old Sambo, his wool whiter than any sheep's, kissed my hand and blubbered and giggled, all in a breath, and afterward danced a dance of triumph out in the courtyard. By and by Avice would lead me to my room to refresh myself with a change of dress before eating. I declare, when I was left alone in the room, I was afraid to stir. I thought we had been neat at the convent, but our utmost cleanness was sluttery compared to that which reigned here. The glass windows, which were seen every where in Holland long before they were common in gentlemen's houses in England, were clear as air, and the laced curtains which veiled the lower parts whiter than any snow. Beautiful pots of Delft ware, holding growing and blossoming plants, stood in the window-seat, and the very floor was of rare wood waxed and polished like a mirror, so as to make walking somewhat perilous to the unaccustomed foot. The bed was all in white and pale blue, and there was not so much as a speck of dust to be seen any where.