Mr. Rutledge told the housekeeper that it would, he thought, be best for me to go immediately up to her room, where I could lie on the sofa till my apartment could be made ready. Accordingly I went upstairs, and took possession of Mrs. Roberts' sofa and Mrs. Roberts' room, both sombre and stiff enough, but infinitely more easy and prepossessing than the lady herself. I cannot imagine that at that very early stage of our acquaintance, she could have entertained any personal resentment toward me, and yet I was entirely possessed of that belief from the first moment that I saw her. But I have since discovered that she invariably impressed all strangers with a similar conviction, and from that, and from subsequent knowledge of her character, I have concluded that it was merely "a way she had," and was by no means to be regarded as an expression of her sentiments toward any one. Unhappily, I did not have this light upon her, and soon began to feel myself in the hands of a grim tyrant, whose only motive in exertions made ostensibly for my benefit, was to get possession of me, soul and body, and render, me, if possible, more wretched than she found me. I lay quietly on the sofa where she had placed me, with no ungentle hand to be sure, but without the slightest relaxing of her blue lips, or the smallest indication of pity in her uncompromising eyes; and watched her as she pursued her plan of operations, steadily and energetically. She certainly knew what she was about, and for precision and promptness must have been a treasure in Mr. Rutledge's eyes. There was an incredible amount of work accomplished in that house within the next hour; rooms were opened, fires were lighted, beds were aired; sounds of sweeping and dusting and beating of mattresses, filling of pitchers, and crackling of fires, reached my indolent ears. Mrs. Roberts, standing before a huge open wardrobe, dealt out sheets, pillow-cases, towels, table-cloths and napkins to the maids, who bustled about with distressing activity, not unfrequently goaded on by a few sharp words from their mistress, who ruled them, I could see, with a rod of iron. The threat, however, that stirred up their flagging energies most effectually, seemed to be, the wrath of Mr. Rutledge. I began to feel myself drawn sympathizingly toward the maids, and could not help wondering whether they were as much afraid of the master, and as much averse to the mistress of the house as I was, and whether they wished themselves away as much; and if they did, why they didn't go; or whether, indeed, people ever got away who once came in it. The gloom of the great hall, with its broad, stone staircase, on which the servants' steps echoed drearily, and the dark glimpses of shut-up rooms that I had caught on my way up, seemed to favor this latter idea--I would write for my aunt to come for me immediately; I would ask the doctor to take me back with him. I should die if they left me in this gloomy place.