If a good fairy had built the house for me with a wave of her wand, and I had been a princess and her favoured god-child, I could not have been more considered in it.  So many preparations were made for me and such an endearing remembrance was shown of all my little tastes and likings that I could have sat down, overcome, a dozen times before I had revisited half the rooms.  I did better than that, however, by showing them all to Charley instead.  Charley’s delight calmed mine; and after we had had a walk in the garden, and Charley had exhausted her whole vocabulary of admiring expressions, I was as tranquilly happy as I ought to have been.  It was a great comfort to be able to say to myself after tea, “Esther, my dear, I think you are quite sensible enough to sit down now and write a note of thanks to your host.”  He had left a note of welcome for me, as sunny as his own face, and had confided his bird to my care, which I knew to be his highest mark of confidence.  Accordingly I wrote a little note to him in London, telling him how all his favourite plants and trees were looking, and how the most astonishing of birds had chirped the honours of the house to me in the most hospitable manner, and how, after singing on my shoulder, to the inconceivable rapture of my little maid, he was then at roost in the usual corner of his cage, but whether dreaming or no I could not report.  My note finished and sent off to the post, I made myself very busy in unpacking and arranging; and I sent Charley to bed in good time and told her I should want her no more that night.

For I had not yet looked in the glass and had never asked to have my own restored to me.  I knew this to be a weakness which must be overcome, but I had always said to myself that I would begin afresh when I got to where I now was.  Therefore I had wanted to be alone, and therefore I said, now alone, in my own room, “Esther, if you are to be happy, if you are to have any right to pray to be true-hearted, you must keep your word, my dear.”  I was quite resolved to keep it, but I sat down for a little while first to reflect upon all my blessings.  And then I said my prayers and thought a little more.

My hair had not been cut off, though it had been in danger more than once.  It was long and thick.  I let it down, and shook it out, and went up to the glass upon the dressing-table.  There was a little muslin curtain drawn across it.  I drew it back and stood for a moment looking through such a veil of my own hair that I could see nothing else.  Then I put my hair aside and looked at the reflection in the mirror, encouraged by seeing how placidly it looked at me.  I was very much changed—­oh, very, very much.  At first my face was so strange to me that I think I should have put my hands before it and started back but for the encouragement I have mentioned.  Very soon it became more familiar, and then I knew the extent of the alteration in it better than I had done at first.  It was not like what I had expected, but I had expected nothing definite, and I dare say anything definite would have surprised me.