Some one knocked at the door. I went to open it, and found Cora, Mrs. Dennison's maid, who had been brushing her mistress's riding-habit on the back terrace, and flung it across her arm before coming up-stairs. The girl was a pretty mulatto, with teeth that an empress might have coveted, and eyes like diamonds; but there was something in her face that I did not like--a way of looking at you from under her black eyelashes that was both searching and sinister. "Mistress told me to run up, and inquire if it wasn't time for Miss Lee to put on her habit," she said, shooting a quick glance into the room; "the horses are ordered round." I felt the color burning in my face. The impertinence of this intrusion angered me greatly. "Miss Lee is with her mother," I said, "and cannot be disturbed; when she is ready, I will let your mistress know. Until then the horses must wait." The girl gave the habit on her arm a shake, and went away, casting one or two glances behind. What possible business could the creature have in that part of the house? Had the mistress really sent her? It was an hour before the time for riding, and it had not been our custom to hurry Jessie away from her mother's room. While I stood by the window, thinking angrily of this intrusion, another knock called me back to the door. It was the mulatto again, with her mistress's compliments, and, if Mrs. Lee was well enough, she would pay her respects while the horses waited. I went down myself at this, and meeting Mrs. Dennison on the terrace, informed her, very curtly, I fear, that Mrs. Lee was not out of her bedroom, having spent a restless night, and was quite incapable of seeing strangers. I put a little malicious emphasis on the word _strangers_, which brought a deeper color into her cheeks; but she answered with elaborate expressions of sympathy, inquired so minutely into the symptoms and causes of Mrs. Lee's prostration, that I felt at a loss how to answer. "Dear lady!" she went on, "I'm afraid these severe attacks will exhaust the little strength she has left; they must make life a burden." "On the contrary," I said, "there is not, I am sure, a person living who so keenly enjoys the highest and most lofty principles of existence. With the love of God in her heart, and domestic love all around her, life can never be a burden." "Indeed!" she answered, with something in her voice that approached a sneer; "I never was sick in my life, that is, perhaps, why it seems so terrible to me. Nothing could reconcile me, I am sure, to a life like Mrs. Lee's. At her age, too, with disease helping time to chase away what beauty one has left, how she must feel it!" "You quite mistake the case, madam," I answered; "Mrs. Lee never depended on her beauty, which, however, no one can dispute, as a means of winning love; her sincerity, intelligence, and gentle wisdom are enough to outlive the loveliness of a Venus." "You are enthusiastic, Miss Hyde." "I love Mrs. Lee, and speak as I feel."