of mother and son met expressively.

"I don't like to see people cry for gladness," whispered the lady.
"That is being entirely too glad. Let us go and see where you are to
live while you are with me. Norton, send York up with her box."

Matilda shook herself mentally, and went up-stairs with Mrs. Laval.
Such easy, soft-going stairs! and then the wide light corridor with its
great end window; and then Mrs. Laval went into a room which Matilda
guessed was her own, and through that passed to another, smaller, but
large enough still, where she paused.

"You shall be here," she said; "close by me; so that you cannot feel
lonely."

"Oh, I could not feel lonely," cried Matilda. "I have a room by myself
at home."

"But not far away from other people, I suppose. Your sister is near
you, is she not?"

"Oh, Maria is gone, long ago."

"Gone? What, entirely? Not out of the village?"

"She is in Poughkeepsie. I have not seen her in a great many weeks."

"Was that her own wish?"

"Oh no, ma'am; she was very sorry to go."

"Well, you must have been very sorry too. Now, dear, here are drawers
for you; and see, here is a closet for hanging up things; and here is
your washing closet with hot and cold water; the hot is the right hand
one of these two faucets. And I hope you will be happy here, darling."

She spoke very kindly; so kindly that Matilda did not know how to
answer. I suppose her face answered for her; for Mrs. Laval, instead of
presently leading the way down-stairs again, sat down in a chair by one
of the windows and drew Matilda into her arras. She took off her hat,
and smoothed away the hair from her forehead, and looked in her face,
with eyes that were curiously wistful and noteful of her. And Matilda's
eyes, wondering, went over the mid-country to the blue mountains, as
she thought what a new friend God had given her.

"Are you well, dear?" said the lady's voice in her ear softly.

"Quite well, ma'am."

"What has changed you so since last June?"

"I didn't know that I was changed," Matilda said, wondering again.

"Are you happy, my love?"

The question was put very softly, and yet Matilda started and looked
into Mrs. Laval's eyes to see what her thought was.

"Yes," said the lady, smiling; "I asked you if you were quite happy.
How is it?"

Matilda's eyes went back to the blue mountains. How much ought she to
tell?

"I think--I suppose--I ought to be happy," she said at last.

"I think you alwa