In spite of her little straw bonnet and plaided blanket-shawl, the boy discovered something in her air, and the pure loveliness of her features, that checked his rising impertinence. “Go tell your mistress that Miss —— no, that her niece wishes to speak with her.” The boy paused to take a survey of her person, and went down the hall, smiling till his white teeth shone again. “Perhaps it’s a lie, and perhaps it isn’t—who knows,” he muttered, threading his way up the flight of stairs set aside for menials. “But won’t she catch it for claiming relationship, true or not?—well, I shouldn’t wonder.” The greatest trial that can be inflicted on an ardent nature is that of _waiting_. When the mulatto came back, he found the young person who had excited his curiosity, with a flush in her cheeks, eagerly watching his approach. “You may go up to Mrs. Judson’s room,” he said, and muttering to himself, he added, “and much good it’ll do you.” The girl was about to mount the richly carpeted steps that swept down between those curving rosewood balusters like a sloping bed of moss mottled with forest-flowers, but the mulatto interfered. “This way, miss, this way; Mrs. Judson ordered me to be particular and bring you up these stairs.” The girl withdrew her foot from the soft carpet and followed the boy in silence. The atmosphere of the house affected her feeble form pleasantly, and she longed to lie down and sleep before seeing her aunt. The carpets under her feet were so luxuriously pliant, it seemed impossible for her to move. The air was bland and fragrant; as she pressed forward, the breath of flowers from an open balcony swept over her, and it seemed, after the atmosphere of Bellevue, like a gale from paradise. Oh! if she could but remain quietly where she was all night, without seeing any one, with that soft carpet to sleep on, the breath of those flowers floating over her. But no, the mulatto kept turning to be sure that she was close behind; for he seemed rather suspicious of her frequent pauses. At last he threw open a chamber-door. “This is Mrs. Judson’s room, miss.” The boy made a feint as if going back in great haste, but returned in a moment, entered the chamber, gliding along the wall, and peeped through the partially closed door, with all the craft of his race, determined to ascertain by the first words whether the fair girl with her humble garments was really the niece of his mistress or not. The room which this strange girl entered was a bed-chamber, fitted up in a style of stately grandeur which contrasted strongly with the mournful look and modest garb of the young girl, who should have claimed a free welcome there.