"Yes, Ma’am, I believe so." "Believe so! not more sure than that? Are you a lover of dead moths, and empty beetle-skins, and butterflies' wings, and dry tufts of moss, and curious stones, and pieces of ribbon-grass, and strange birds' nests? These are some of the things I used to delight in when I was about as old as you." "I don't know, Ma’am," said Ellen. "I never was where I could get them." "Weren't you? Poor child! Then you have been shut up to brick walls and paving-stones all your life?" "Yes, Ma’am, all my life." "But now you have seen a little of the country — don't you think you shall like it better?" "Oh, a great deal better!" "Ah, that's right. I am sure you will. On that other side, you see, is my winter sofa. It's a very comfortable resting-place, I can tell you, Ellen, as I have proved by many a sweet nap; and its old chintz covers are very pleasant to me, for I remember them as far back as I remember anything." There was a sigh here; but Alice passed on, and opened a door near the end of the sofa. "Look in here, Ellen; this is my bedroom." "Oh, how lovely!" Ellen exclaimed. The carpet covered only the middle of the floor; the rest was painted white. The furniture was common but neat as wax. Ample curtains of white dimity clothed the three windows, and lightly draped the bed. The toilet-table was covered with snow-white muslin, and by the toilet-cushion stood, late as it was, a glass of flowers. Ellen thought it must be a pleasure to sleep there. "This," said Alice, when they came out, "between my door and the fireplace, is a cupboard. Here be cups and saucers, and so forth. In that other corner beyond the fireplace you see my flower-stand. Do you love flowers, Ellen?" "I love them dearly, Miss Alice." "I have some pretty ones out yet, and shall have one or two in the winter; but I can't keep a great many here; I haven't room for them. I have hard work to save these from frost. There's a beautiful daphne that will be out by-and-by, and make the whole house sweet. But here, Ellen, on this side, between the windows, is my greatest treasure — my precious books. All these are mine. Now, my dear, it is time to introduce you to my most excellent of easy-chairs — the best things in the room, aren't they? Put yourself in that; now do you feel at home?" "Very much indeed, Ma’am," said Ellen, laughing, as Alice placed her in the deep easy-chair. There were two things in the room that Alice had not mentioned; and while she mended the fire, Ellen looked at them. One was the portrait of a gentleman, grave and good- looking; this had very little of her attention. The other was the counter-portrait of a lady; a fine, dignified countenance that had a charm for Ellen. It hung over the fireplace in an excellent light; and the mild eye, and somewhat of a peculiar expression about the mouth, bore such likeness to Alice, though older, that Ellen had no doubt whose it was.