hall, and kissing me heartily and somewhat boisterously exclaimed, "My dear cousin, my dear Margaret--I am so delighted--so out of breath, we did not expect you till ten o'clock; my father is somewhere about the place, he must be close at hand. James--Corney--run out and tell your master; my brother is seldom at home, at least at any reasonable hour; you must be so tired--so fatigued--let me show you to your room; see that Lady Margaret's luggage is all brought up; you must lie down and rest yourself. Deborah, bring some coffee--up these stairs; we are so delighted to see you--you cannot think how lonely I have been; how steep these stairs are, are not they? I am so glad you are come--I could hardly bring myself to believe that you were really coming; how good of you, dear Lady Margaret." There was real good nature and delight in my cousin's greeting, and a kind of constitutional confidence of manner which placed me at once at ease, and made me feel immediately upon terms of intimacy with her. The room into which she ushered me, although partaking in the general air of decay which pervaded the mansion and all about it, had, nevertheless, been fitted up with evident attention to comfort, and even with some dingy attempt at luxury; but what pleased me most was that it opened, by a second door, upon a lobby which communicated with my fair cousin's apartment; a circumstance which divested the room, in my eyes, of the air of solitude and sadness which would otherwise have characterised it, to a degree almost painful to one so depressed and agitated as I was.