I courtesied, and said I would do my best. The little room was very pretty, and even luxurious, in my eyes. There were no rushes on the floor, such as I had been used to seeing—and I now perceived, for the first time, what it was that made the floors all over the house seem so strange and bare to me. "That is one of my nephew's new-fangled ways, as old Dame Madge calls them," pursued my aunt. "He learned it in Holland among the Dutch, who are the cleanest folks in the world." "Yes, new-fangled ways," muttered the old dame, who was mending somewhat about my bed curtains. "It was never a good world since these new ways came up. But we shall see—we shall see!" "I must needs allow that the air in the house is much sweeter since we disused the rushes, which are a great cover for dirt and vermin," pursued my aunt; "though it makes a great deal of work, washing and polishing the floors." "I noticed how sweet the house smelled," I ventured to say. "I think the floors look pretty, only—" and then I stopped in some confusion, as it occurred to me that I was making very free. "Well, only what?" asked my aunt. "Only it seems a pity to see such fine rugs laid down to be walked on," I answered. "We had only two at Peckham Hall, and one was on the state bed and the other on my lady's own." "You are an observing child. Sambo says the Turks use these rugs just as my brother does, and that they kneel on them to say their prayers—poor, deluded creatures." My aunt chatted on, and I stood by her side, well content to listen to her and answer her questions. She had a remarkable way of putting every one at their ease, both gentle and simple. We never had a new housemaid or 'prentice who did not at once fall in love with Mistress Holland. "You must not mind if Dame Madge is a little crabbed sometimes!" said my aunt, as the old woman left the room. "She is jealous of all newcomers, and would fain keep the favor of master and mistress altogether to herself. There, now, all is done, I believe," she added, as she hung a holy water basin and crucifix at the head of the bed. "I hope you will be happy here, my child." "I am sure I shall!" I answered, with perfect sincerity, and then, all at once, I remembered that this pleasant house was not my home after all—that in a few days Mother Benedict would probably come and carry me off to that fate which had been waiting for me all my life. I suppose my face showed my thoughts, for my aunt noticed the change—as what did she not notice which concerned the comfort of others—and asked me what was the matter. "It is a change for you, I know, but you must try not to be homesick." "I am not homesick!" I answered. "Only—" and then I dropped on my knees, hid my face in my aunt's lap and burst out crying. I don't know what made me. I should never have thought of such a thing with my lady, who, though always kind, did never invite my caresses.