The room, though pretty, was small: I felt it confining: I longed for a change.

The increasing chill and gathering gloom, too, depressed me; I wanted to see--to feel firelight.

Besides, I kept thinking of the son of that tall matron: when should I see him?
Certainly not till I left my room.
At last the bonne came to make my bed for the night.

She prepared to wrap me in a blanket and place me in the little chintz chair; but, declining these attentions, I proceeded to dress myself: The business was just achieved, and I was sitting down to take breath, when Mrs.Bretton once more appeared.
"Dressed!" she exclaimed, smiling with that smile I so well knew--a pleasant smile, though not soft.

"You are quite better then?
Quite strong--eh ?" She spoke to me so much as of old she used to speak that I almost fancied she was beginning to know me.