in her simplicity
mistook for a real "attachment." It seemed as if every one loved, or
was loved, except herself. She thought this, blushing as if it were
unmaidenliness, when it was only nature speaking in her heart.

Poor Olive! perhaps it was ill for her that Sara's "love affair" had
aroused prematurely these blind gropings after life's great mystery, so
often

Too early seen unknown, and known too late.

"What! tired of dancing already?" cried Sara, flitting to the corner
where Olive sat.

"I have not danced once yet," Olive answered, rather piteously.

"Come--shall I get you a partner?" said Sara, carelessly.

"No, no; every one is strange to me here. If you please, and if it would
not trouble you, Sara, I had much rather dance with you."

Sara consented with a tolerably good grace; but there was a slight
shadow on her face, which somewhat pained her friend.

"Is she ashamed of me, I wonder?" thought Olive. "Perhaps, because I
am not beautiful. Yet, no one ever told me I was _very_ disagreeable to
look at. I will see."

As they danced, she watched in the tall mirror Sara's graceful, floating
image, and the little pale figure that moved beside her. There _was_
a contrast! Olive, who inherited all her mother's love of beauty,
spiritualised by the refinement of a dawning artist-soul, felt keenly
the longing regret after physical perfection. She went through the dance
with less spirit, and in her heart there rung the idle echoes of some
old song she knew:

"I see the courtly ladies stand,
With their dark and shining hair;
And I coldly turn aside to weep--
Oh, would that I were fair!"

The quadrille ended, she hid herself in her old corner; and Sara, whose
good nature led her to perform this sacrifice to friendship, seemed
to smile more pleasantly and affectionately when it was over. At least
Olive thought so. She did not see her beautiful idol again for some
time; and feeling little interest in any other girl, and none at all in
the awkward Oldchurch "beaux," she took consolation in her own harmless
fashion. This was hiding herself under the thick curtains, and looking
out of the window at the moon.

Sara's voice was heard close by, talking to a young girl whom Olive
knew. But Olive was too shy to join them. She greatly preferred her
friend the moon.

"I laughed to see you dancing with that little Olive Rothesay, Miss
Derwent. For my part, I hate dancing with girls--and