“Well, so I did, but Ross thought I’d better not. You know, Carter, that beauty unadorned looks better than overloading.” “Oh!” said Carter, “at the magazines again.” “Ross thinks so, at any rate, so I made myself simple but elegant. Don’t you think so?” “Well, I don’t know about that, Rebecca, but you’re an all-fired good-looking woman, any how!” “Oh, Mr. Carter! all-fired, and just as people are coming.” “But it’s only between ourselves, Beccy.” “But you might——” “No, I mightn’t. What is it, Jacob?” “Mr. Ross has come, sir, with the young lady, and wants to know if he shall bring her up.” “Yes,” answered Carter, after a moment’s hesitation, during which he was fitting on a cream-colored glove, with all his might. “Take her into Mrs. Carter’s bouder. We’ll be there in no time.” Jacob went out, and his master tugged away at the second glove, which refused to meet at the wrist. “Mrs. Carter, _will_ you give a little attention? This confounded button.” “Yes, my dear, I know what it is, having suffered. There.” The glove was closed so tightly that Carter’s wrist began to swell above it, but the spirit of martyrdom was upon him, and he marched out of his room without a word of complaint, resolving to perform his social duties to the uttermost. Eva Laurence was standing near the window of that sumptuous little room. Her eyes had just fallen on Ruthy’s pictures, framed in an exquisite net-work of gold, and the pleasant surprise brightened her face with a smile that made Carter hold his breath. “This is the young lady,” said Mrs. Carter, going up to Eva with a cordial welcome in her face. “Miss Laurence, you have never seen my husband, but he has come to make your acquaintance.” Eva turned and saw a rather stout and well-formed man coming toward her, with his hand extended. “Delighted to see you, Miss—make yourself at home, and welcome.” Eva, grateful for the warmth of his greeting, laid her hand in his. “You are very kind,” she said, modestly; “but Mr. Ross told me I could expect nothing that was not pleasant here.” “Mr. Ross shall promise nothing for us that we will not perform,” answered the host, blandly. “My dear, that is a carriage—give me your arm. Ross, take care of Miss Eva. Dear me, there is a party going up to the dressing-room. What if we meet them!—oh, the back stairs. They are a little dark, but I’ll go first. Carter, take care of my train. Ah, this is something like!” CHAPTER XXXVII. A GLIMPSE OF FAIRY LAND. No wonder Mrs. Carter gave voice to her admiration. While she was in her dressing-room, chandeliers and wax-lights enough to turn night into noonday, had been kindled down the vista of three splendid rooms, separated from each other only by rich, flowing draperies of silk and lace, varying and yet harmonious in their colors, as tints melt into each other on a sunset cloud.