y ill? A moment ago, you flitted along so lightly that I
was comparing you to a bird. Now, on the contrary, it is as if you had
a heavy heart, and a very little strength to bear it with. Pray take my
arm!"

"No," said Priscilla, "I do not think it would help me. It is my
heart, as you say, that makes me heavy; and I know not why. Just now,
I felt very happy."

No doubt it was a kind of sacrilege in me to attempt to come within her
maidenly mystery; but, as she appeared to be tossed aside by her other
friends, or carelessly let fall, like a flower which they had done
with, I could not resist the impulse to take just one peep beneath her
folded petals.

"Zenobia and yourself are dear friends of late," I remarked. "At
first,--that first evening when you came to us,--she did not receive
you quite so warmly as might have been wished."

"I remember it," said Priscilla. "No wonder she hesitated to love me,
who was then a stranger to her, and a girl of no grace or beauty,--she
being herself so beautiful!"

"But she loves you now, of course?" suggested I. "And at this very
instant you feel her to be your dearest friend?"

"Why do you ask me that question?" exclaimed Priscilla, as if
frightened at the scrutiny into her feelings which I compelled her to
make. "It somehow puts strange thoughts into my mind. But I do love
Zenobia dearly! If she only loves me half as well, I shall be happy!"

"How is it possible to doubt that, Priscilla?" I rejoined. "But
observe how pleasantly and happily Zenobia and Hollingsworth are
walking together. I call it a delightful spectacle. It truly rejoices
me that Hollingsworth has found so fit and affectionate a friend! So
many people in the world mistrust him,--so many disbelieve and
ridicule, while hardly any do him justice, or acknowledge him for the
wonderful man he is,--that it is really a blessed thing for him to have
won the sympathy of such a woman as Zenobia. Any man might be proud of
that. Any man, even if he be as great as Hollingsworth, might love so
magnificent a woman. How very beautiful Zenobia is! And Hollingsworth
knows it, too."

There may have been some petty malice in what I said. Generosity is a
very fine thing, at a proper time and within due limits. But it is an
insufferable bore to see one man engrossing every thought of all the
women, and leaving his friend to shiver in outer seclusion, without
even the alternative of solacing himself with what th