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Mrs. Grace depended, rather imprudently, upon the coachman’s arrangement; for Mad. de Rosier, finding that the coach did not call for her at the hour she had appointed, sent for a chair, and returned home, whilst Grace, Mrs. Rebecca, and Favoretta, were yet in Mrs. Harcourt’s dressing-room.

Favoretta was making a great noise, so that they did not hear the knock at the door.

One of the housemaids apprised Mrs. Grace of Mad. de Rosier’s arrival. “She’s getting out of her chair, Mrs. Grace, in the hall.”

Grace started up, put Favoretta into a little closet, and charged her not to make the least noise for her life.–Then, with a candle in her hand, and a treacherous smile upon her countenance, she sallied forth to the head of the stairs, to light Mad. de Rosier.–“Dear ma’am! my mistress will be so sorry the coach didn’t go for you in time;–she found herself better after you went–and the two young ladies are gone with her to the opera.”

“And where are Herbert and Favoretta?”

“In bed, ma’am, and asleep, hours ago.–Shall I light you, ma’am, this way, to your room?”

“No,” said Mad. de Rosier; “I have a letter to write: and I’ll wait in Mrs. Harcourt’s dressing-room till she comes home.”

“Very well, ma’am. Mrs. Rebecca, it’s only Mad. de Rosier.–Mad. de Rosier, it’s only Rebecca, Mrs. Fanshaw’s maid, ma’am, who’s here very often when my mistress is at home, and just stepped out to look at the young ladies’ drawings, which my mistress gave me leave to show her the first time she drank tea with me, ma’am.”

Mad. de Rosier, who thought all this did not concern her in the least, listened to it with cold indifference, and sat down to write her letter.

Grace fidgeted about the room, as long as she could find any pretence for moving any thing into or out of its place; and, at length, in no small degree of anxiety for the prisoner she had left in the closet, quitted the dressing-room.

As Mad. de Rosier was writing, she once or twice thought that she heard some noise in the closet; she listened, but all was silent; and she continued to write, till Mrs. Harcourt, Isabella, and Matilda, came home.

Isabella was in high spirits, and began to talk, with considerable volubility, to Mad. de Rosier about the opera.

Mrs. Harcourt was full of apologies about the coach; and Matilda rather anxious to discover what it was that had made a change in her mother’s manner towards Mad. de Rosier.

Grace, glad to see that they were all intent upon their own affairs, lighted their candles expeditiously, and stood waiting, in hopes that they would immediately leave the room, and that she should be able to release her prisoner.

Favoretta usually slept in a little closet within Mrs. Grace’s room, so that she foresaw no difficulty in getting her to bed.

“I heard!–did not you hear a noise, Isabella?” said Matilda.

“A noise!–No; where?” said Isabella, and went on talking alternately to her mother and Mad. de Rosier, whom she held fast, though they seemed somewhat inclined to retire to rest.

“Indeed,” said Matilda, “I did hear a noise in that closet.”

“Oh dear, Miss Matilda,” cried Grace, getting between Matilda and the closet, “it’s nothing in life but a mouse.”

“A mouse, where?” said Mrs. Harcourt.

“Nowhere, ma’am,” said Grace; “only Miss Matilda was hearing noises, and I said they must be mice.”

“There, mamma! there! that was not a mouse, surely!” said Matilda. “It was a noise louder, certainly, than any mouse could make.”

“Grace is frightened,” said Isabella, laughing.

Grace, indeed, looked pale and terribly frightened.

Mad. de Rosier took a candle, and walked directly to the closet.

“Ring for the men,” said Mrs. Harcourt.

Matilda held back Mad. de Rosier; and Isabella, whose head was now just recovered from the opera, rang the bell with considerable energy.

“Dear Miss Isabella, don’t ring so;–dear ma’am, don’t be frightened, and I’ll tell you the whole truth, ma’am,” said Grace to her mistress; “it’s nothing in the world to frighten any body–it’s only Miss Favoretta, ma’am.”