Two of the windows were open, and their lace curtains held back, one by a marble Hebe that mingled her cold stone flowers with the lace; the other by a Bacchante, whose garland of snow-white grapes was seen dimly, through the transparent folds it gathered away from the glass.
Through these open windows came glimpses of the flower-garden, green slopes on the lawn, and farther off the wind swept up perfumes from a distant orchard, and sifted it almost imperceptibly through the delicate network of the curtains. Back of this boudoir was a bed-chamber, and beyond that a dressing-room. Elizabeth could see through the open door a bed with hangings of blue and white, with all the objects of luxury which could please the taste of a pampered and fanciful girl.
"Grantley chose these rooms for me long ago, before he went to Europe," said Elsie, looking around with quiet complacency. "He would not hear of my giving them up; besides, I knew you would like something a little darker and more stately," she said. "Are you pleased with the house, Bessie?"
"Very, very much. I did not expect any thing so magnificent," she answered. "It overpowers me."
"I had not seen it for years," said Elsie, "till I came down with Grant to decide about the new furniture. Now you must be happy here. You ought to be! Just contrast this place with that old barn of a school; it makes one shudder to think of it! You must be happy, Bessie, for I hate discontented people."
"I trust so, dear; I believe so; we shall all be happy."
"Oh, you can't help it," pursued Elsie; "Grant is always a darling! But you must love and pet me, you know, just as he does."
"You exacting little thing!" said Elizabeth, lightly.
"Yes, but you must," she urged; "you never would have had all this but for me."
"No," murmured Elizabeth; "I should never have known Grantley but for you."