I was waked by some one who came very softly into the room bearing a shaded light, and I started up in alarm. "What has happened?" I asked, only half awake. "Have I been asleep? Has not my father come home?" "It is I, my love—Cousin Marianne," said the new-comer in a soft, ladylike voice. "Do not be frightened. All is safe. Your mother is awake, and I thought perhaps you would like to rise and take some refreshment with her." "Is it very late?" I asked, still bewildered. "Has neither my father nor Andrew come back?" "Recollect yourself, dear child," said my cousin, setting down her light and coming to the bedside. "Do you not remember what has happened?" "Oh, yes, I remember!" said I, and my tears flowed again. My cousin sat down on the bedside, laid my head on her shoulder, and wept with me for a while. Then she began gently to soothe and hush me, and by degrees I grew composed, so that when she again proposed to me to try to rise, I was quite ready to comply. She assisted me to dress, but looked a little displeased when she saw the black gown. "That was thoughtless of Katherine," said she. "We are wearing mourning ourselves, but she might have got out a colored frock for to-day." "It does not signify," said I. "I must put on black, of course. How is my mother, madame?" "She seems well in health, and very quiet and composed," was the answer; "but I have persuaded her to remain in her room, for I am sure she must need rest after the events of yesterday and last night." "Yesterday!" I exclaimed. "Is it possible that it was only yesterday morning that I saw my father and Andrew set out from our gate to go to Avranches?" "So I understand from Andrew," was the reply. "I dare say it seems an age to you. My love, how curly your hair is." "It curls worse than usual because it has been wet," said I, almost laughing at the odd transition. "Maman says it is real Corbet hair." "Yes, you are like your mother's family, all but the complexion. Here is a fresh cap for you. They say that in London young ladies do not wear caps, but I cannot think that a modest custom. There, now, you look like an English maiden, and a very sweet one," said the dear old lady, kissing me, and then holding me off and regarding me with great satisfaction, much as if I had been a doll she had just dressed. "Now I will let you go in to your mother, as I dare say she would rather see you alone just at first. The next door to this on the right hand, remember. I will go down and send up your supper presently, and you must try to make dear mamma eat something." And Cousin Marianne glided away with that peculiar swift, short step of hers, which never seemed to make any noise even on a tiled flour. I never saw any one else move in the same way or get over so much ground in the same time.