ft in its place, resolving not to wear it--less
from any dread that the housekeeper might recognize a pattern too quiet
to be noticed, and too common to be remembered, than from the conviction
that it was neither gay enough nor becoming enough for her purpose.
After taking a plain white muslin scarf, a pair of light gray kid
gloves, and a garden-hat of Tuscan straw, from the drawers of the
wardrobe, she locked it, and put the key carefully in her pocket.

Instead of at once proceeding to dress herself, she sat idly looking at
the two muslin gowns; careless which she wore, and yet inconsistently
hesitating which to choose. "What does it matter!" she said to herself,
with a reckless laugh; "I am equally worthless in my own estimation,
whichever I put on." She shuddered, as if the sound of her own laughter
had startled her, and abruptly caught up the dress which lay nearest to
her hand. Its colors were blue and white--the shade of blue which best
suited her fair complexion. She hurriedly put on the gown, without going
near her looking-glass. For the first time in her life she shrank
from meeting the reflection of herself--except for a moment, when
she arranged her hair under her garden-hat, leaving the glass again
immediately. She drew her scarf over her shoulders and fitted on her
gloves, with her back to the toilet-table. "Shall I paint?" she asked
herself, feeling instinctively that she was turning pale. "The rouge
is still left in my box. It can't make my face more false than it is
already." She looked round toward the glass, and again turned away from
it. "No!" she said. "I have Mrs. Lecount to face as well as her master.
No paint." After consulting her watch, she left the room and went
downstairs again. It wanted ten minutes only of two o'clock.

Captain Wragge was waiting for her in the parlor--respectable, in a
frock-coat, a stiff summer cravat, and a high white hat; specklessly
and cheerfully rural, in a buff waistcoat, gray trousers, and gaiters
to match. His collars were higher than ever, and he carried a brand-new
camp-stool in his hand. Any tradesman in England who had seen him at
that moment would have trusted him on the spot.

"Charming!" said the captain, paternally surveying Magdalen when she
entered the room. "So fresh and cool! A little too pale, my dear, and a
great deal too serious. Otherwise perfect. Try if you can smile."

"When the time comes for smiling," said Magdalen, bitterly, "trust my
drama