A spacious bed stood on one side; high up over the pillows was a light gilded canopy of grape-leaves and fruit, through which the crimson drapery, that swept to the ground on each side, gleamed like flashes of the sunset through a golden cloud. The same rich crimson broke through the open network of rosewood that formed the foot-board and side-pieces of the bedstead; and to this was contrasted the pure whiteness of richly laced pillows, and a counterpane that seemed of quilted snow. On a crimson lounge, severely magnificent, for all this grandeur had an air of rigid coldness hanging over it, Mrs. Judson was seated, with a slight frown upon her forehead, and her keen, black eyes fixed upon the door. The girl saw this, as she paused a moment in the shadow before entering; and she saw also, with a sinking heart, that the frown deepened as she made her appearance; while a quick pressure of the lip added to the displeasure of that haughty face. Mrs. Judson had evidently been disturbed while completing her evening toilet, for though her purple brocade fell in precise and voluminous richness adown her tall figure, her headdress of purple velvet and golden acorns hung upon a branch of gilded spray attached to the frame of her toilet-glass, while several diamond ornaments glittered upon the marble underneath, and an undersleeve of Brussels point had evidently fallen from her hand upon the carpet before she assumed her present imposing attitude. “Well,” said the lady, with frigid dignity, “you have come again, I see; what is the trouble now?” “I have no home—I am in want,” said the poor girl, in a quiet, sad voice. “You are my mother’s sister—sister to an angel in heaven—and in her name I ask you to have pity on me!” “No home? no home? Were you not bound to Madame De Marke? How could I, or any one, provide for you better? You astonish me by these complaints!” “Madame De Marke gave up her house almost a year ago,” answered the girl, with a degree of gentle firmness that imparted dignity even to her tone of supplication; “she is very rich; but no beggar in the street lives more meanly.” “Well, but you were bound to her still; she is compelled by law to give you a home.” The girl smiled a wan smile, but with an expression of some humor in it. “Madame De Marke’s home! Do you know what it is, aunt? A room in the loft of one of her own buildings. The lowest servant in your house would turn from it in disdain; and for food, why, aunt, this rich woman lives absolutely the life of a beggar, and in the market asks, for her cat, refuse scraps of meat, which she devours herself. That was the home and food which Madame De Marke gave to me, after she left her house. Instead of being lady’s maid, I was compelled to sweep out the offices and scrub the stores for her tenants.” “Indeed!” exclaimed the lady, smoothing the trimming of her sleeve. “Madame De Marke forgot that _I_ bound you to her, it seems to me.”