were not going, for she had already promised her mother to dine and
spend the evening quietly with an old friend. The next evening at the
concert the whole Lee party were there, and our belle, Miss Mary, was
brought in by young Langley, just newly arrived from Europe. The
unconscious _demi-toilette_ Mrs. Duval speaks so admiringly of, had
the desired effect. Langley's taste has been chastened by a voyage
over the Atlantic; the noisy over-dressing of his countrywomen would,
of course, annoy his delicate sense--therefore was the simple home
costume adopted in preference, and the "_available_" Mr. Langley
secured as an admirer."

"I do not believe any such thing, Philip!" exclaimed my mother,
indignantly. "I will answer for it, there was some mistake. Mary Lee
would scorn a falsehood, and is entirely above all artifice or design.
Mrs. Lee is said to be maneuvering and worldly; if she is, her
daughter is entirely free from such influences."

"How did Morton take it, Phil?" asked the other friend, laughingly.

"He was with me," replied Mr. Foster, evidently enjoying with some
little malice my kind mother's annoyance, "we had dropped into the
concert by chance together. He looked thunderstruck, but said nothing,
and did not approach her during the whole evening. She knew he was
there, however, for I saw her return his cold bow in a painfully
embarrassed manner."

The entrance of some other visiters, connected with the Lees, put an
end to the conversation. That night, when my nurse was undressing me
for bed, I said,

"What's a belle, Katy?"

"A very rich and beautiful young lady," replied my nurse, "who has
plenty of lovers, and gets married very soon."

"Will I ever be a belle?" I innocently inquired, as she gathered up my
rebellious hair under my cap.

"No," she replied, in impatient tones, "your hair is too straight, and
your skin too yellow; but you must do as you're told to, or else
nobody will even love you; so go to sleep right away."

I was silenced, and thus obedience was obtained by appealing to my
love of approbation. Many years passed, bringing me to womanhood, when
I discovered the truth of Nurse Katy's reason why I should not be a
belle. Other people decided that my "hair was too straight, and my
skin too yellow," to use Katy's homely, rough words; but her _brusque_
admonition, that made me go to sleep so quickly when a child, acted
upon me as a woman. My approbativeness once roused, I managed, despite