CHAPTER XXXII. ETHEL AT HOME. “Pleasures mix’d with pains appear, Sorrow with joy, and hope with fear.”--SWIFT. Madame Le Conte had missed her afternoon nap, and was much fatigued by the unusual exertions and excitement of the day. It was quite early when she dismissed her niece for the night--so early that as Floy (or Ethel, as we should perhaps now call her) passed into her own apartments and stood for a moment before a window of her bedroom looking toward the west, she saw that the glow of the sunset had not yet faded from the sky. She, too, was weary, but felt no disposition to seek her pillow yet, though the bed with its snowy drapery looked very inviting. She was glad to be alone; she wanted time to collect her thoughts, to compose her mind after the constant whirl of excitement of the past two days. Her spirit was buoyant with hope to-night; she would find her long-lost mother, and Espy would find her; for that he would search for her, that he would be true to her, she never doubted. And there was no bar to their union now; now that she was possessed of twice the fortune she had resigned, Mr. Alden would be only too glad to give consent. The blissful certainty of that was the greatest happiness this sudden gift of wealth had brought or could bring to her. But there were minor ones which she was far from despising. She thought with a thrill of joy of the ability it gave her to show her gratitude and affection to those who had befriended her in adversity, and to relieve poverty and distress. And then the removal of the necessity of laboring for her own support--what a relief it was! what a delightful sense of ease and freedom she was conscious of, as, turning from the window, she glanced at her luxurious surroundings and remembered that she would not be called up in the morning to a day of toil; that she might choose her own hours for rising and retiring; that she would have time and opportunity for the cultivation of mind and heart, for the keeping up of her accomplishments, and for many innocent pleasures that want of means had obliged her to forego during the past year! The communicating doors between her apartments stood wide open, giving a free circulation of air. She sauntered through the dressing-room into the boudoir beyond, a beautiful room looking out upon the lake. A cool, refreshing breeze gently stirred the curtains of costly lace and kissed the fair cheek of our heroine as she ensconced herself in an easy chair beside the window, and, with her elbow on its arm, her chin in her hand, gazed out over the dark waters, where she could faintly discern the outlines of a passing row-boat and the white sails of two or three vessels in the offing. A tap at the outer door, and Kathleen put in her head, asking: “Shall I light the gas for you, Miss--Miss--”