"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."