“Older? Oh, yes! And a thousand times brighter than I ever shall be. But, then, there is no one like our Eva.” “She is, indeed, a bright, beautiful creature.” “Everybody thinks that of her.” The man looked earnestly at Ruth. Some thought was in his mind which he did not know how to express. The girl before him was very lovely, but part of this arose from that exquisite fairness, which exclusion from the sun and frail health had imparted, and was in extreme contrast with the dark, rich beauty of her sister. Ruth read something of this thought in the man’s face and answered it, smiling. “Yes, everybody wonders that we are so unlike; but that is in all respects. She is strong, cheerful, splendid, while I—Oh, Sir! you can see how different I am.” “I can see that you are doing yourself injustice,” said Ross, taking his hat. “But excuse me, that I have intruded so long, as your father’s old friend. You must let me come again. I may be of some service.” Mrs. Laurence bent her head, and her visitor departed. CHAPTER XVI. MRS. CARTER MAKES A VISIT. “Mother! mother! come here!” Ruth lifted her sweet voice a little, and spoke with some excitement, for she was taken quite by surprise by the appearance of a magnificent carriage before the gate; a carriage that seemed half made of translucent glass. Two pretentious menials in livery sat between the glittering lamps on each side the coachman’s seat, and a pair of chestnut horses arched their necks, tossed their heads, and made their gold-mounted harness rattle again with their proud, impatient movements, while one of those solemn personages let himself to the ground and opened the carriage-door. “This is the place, ma’am. It doesn’t seem possible, but this _is_ the place. I only hope Battles will be able to hold the hosses; but they don’t like it.” “Just stand aside, keep my dress from the wheels, and mind your own business, Jacob,” said Mrs. Carter, with an imperious wave of her hand, as she rolled herself through the door of the carriage, and lighted heavily on the pavement. “If I know myself intimately you were hired to open doors, and shut your own mouth. So this is the place, is it? And a lovely place it is! Quite a rustic cottage! There, now you may open the gate!” While she was delivering this reprimand to her servant, Mrs. Carter shook out her flounces, drew the lace shawl more jauntily over her shoulder, and swept through the gate with all the magnificence and glory of an empress about to honor some subject by her presence. Half way up the path she remembered what was due to herself, and stepped back into a flower-bed, waving Jacob forward with her hand.