he houses grew high; groceries and shops were
seldomer to be seen, and were of much better air; markets disappeared;
carmen and carts grew less frequent; until at last all these
objectionable things seemed to be left behind, and the carriage drew up
before a door which looked upon nothing that was not stately. Up and
down, as far as Matilda could see, the street was clean and splendid.
She could see this in one glance, almost without looking, as she got
out of the carriage, before Norton hurried her in.

She felt strange, and curious; not afraid; she knew the sheltering arms
of her friends would protect her. It was a doubtful feeling, though,
with which she stepped on the marble floor of the hall and saw the
group which were gathered round Mrs. Laval. What struck Matilda at
first was the beautiful hall, or room she would have called it, though
the stairs went up from one side; its soft warm atmosphere; the rustle
of silks and gleam of colours, and the gentle bubbling up of voices all
around her. But she stood on the edge of the group. Soon she could make
more detailed observations.

That stately lady in black silk and lace shawl, she was Mrs. Laval's
mother; she heard Mrs. Laval call her so. Very stately, in figure and
movement too; a person accustomed to command and have her own way,
Matilda instinctively felt. Now she had her arms round Norton; she was
certainly very fond of him. The lady with lace in her gleaming hair,
and jewels at her breast, and the dress of crimson satin falling in
rich folds all about her, sweeping the marble, that must be Mrs.
Laval's sister. She looked like a person who did not do anything and
had not anything she need do, like Mrs. Laval. Then this girl of about
her own age, with a very bright mischievous face and a dress of sky
blue, Matilda knew who she must be; would they like each other, she
questioned? And then she had no more time for silent observations;
Norton called upon her, and pulled her forward into the group.

"Grandmamma, you have not seen her," he cried; "you have not seen one
of us. This is mamma's pet, and my--darling." It was evident the boy's
thought was of "daughter" and "sister," but that a tender feeling
stopped his tongue. Mrs. Lloyd looked at Matilda.

"I have heard of her," she said.

"Yes, but you must kiss her. She is one of us."

"She is _mine_," said Mrs. Laval meaningly, putting both arms around
Matilda and drawing her to her mother.

The stately lady st