Mr. Rutledge laughed and yielded; before I was aware, the carriage had stopped, and Thomas had mounted the steps and rung the bell. In a moment, a stream of light from the hall showed the bell was answered. Thomas returned to open the door of the carriage, and with Mr. Rutledge's kind words in my ear, and the kind touch of his hand on mine, I crossed the dreaded threshold. The servant, who recognized Mr. Rutledge deferentially, showed us into a parlor, where the soft light, the rich curtains, and the pleasant warmth, gave one an instant feeling of luxury and comfort. The next room was only dimly lighted; but beyond that, through lace hangings, was visible a brighter room, and glimpses of glass and silver, made it apparent that dinner was but just over. From this room, pushing aside the drapery with graceful haste, issued a lady, who I knew at once to be my aunt Edith. There never was a firmer and more elastic tread than hers, nor a better turned and more graceful figure; the modish little cap upon her head, with its floating ribbons, was all that at that distance looked matronly enough to designate her as the mother of the demoiselle who followed her. Mr. Rutledge advanced to meet her, thus shielding me a moment longer. Her greeting to him was as gracious and cordial as possible, but she looked eagerly forward, saying quickly: "_Mais où est l'enfant?_" Mr. Rutledge laughed, and turned to me, "_La voici_," he said, appreciating her look of amazement. "Impossible!" she exclaimed, starting back. "My child I never should have known you," she continued, taking me by both hands, and kissing me as affectionately as she could for her bewilderment. She held me off, and looked at me again; then gave Mr. Rutledge a quick, searching look, and said rapidly in French, in a tone that was not altogether as light and jesting as it was meant to appear, "And this is the 'little girl' you have been writing to me about for the last three weeks; this is 'the child' you have had the care of. Upon my word, monsieur, your notions of infancy and mine differ!" Mr. Rutledge answered lightly, but very indifferently; really he begged Mrs. Churchill would forgive his misrepresentation of facts, if he had been guilty of any; he was, he acknowledged, culpably unenlightened on the different stages of rosebud-opening; it had struck him that the rosebud under discussion was in the unopened and undeveloped state, and so he had spoken of it; but he begged Mrs. Churchill would excuse his ignorance and inattention. Mrs. Churchill said, recovering an easy tone: "Ah, we all know your sad willfulness and coldness!" This in French; then in English, "Josephine, my child, here is your new cousin." Josephine came forward, and with pretty _empressement_, kissed me on both cheeks, and held my hand affectionately as she exclaimed: "Why, mamma! she is taller than I am, and so much older than I expected!"