seem vanity in the gaze
she fastens there? Look on that form of graceful symmetry, on those
large black eyes with their jetty fringes, on the rich coloring of her
rounded cheeks, and the dewy freshness of her red lip, and you will
forget to censure. But see, the mirror reflects another form--a form so
slender that it seems scarcely to have attained the full proportions of
womanhood, and a face whose soft gray eyes and fair complexion, and hair
of the palest gold, present a singular contrast to the dark yet glowing
beauty beside her. This is Mary Grayson, the orphan cousin of Caroline
Danby, who has grown up in her father's house. She has glided in with
her usual gentle movement, and light, noiseless step, and Caroline first
perceives her in the glass.

"Ah, Mary!" she exclaims, "I sent for you to put this diamond spray in
my hair; you arrange it with so much more taste than any one else."

Mary smilingly receives the expensive ornament, and fastens it amidst
the dark, glossy tresses. At this moment the doorbell gives forth a
hasty peal, and going to the head of the stairs, Mary remains listening
till the door is opened, and then comes back to say, "Mrs. Oswald,
Caroline, and Philip."

"Pray, go down and entertain them till I come, Mary"--and seemingly
nothing loth, Mary complies with the request.

In the drawing-room to which Mary Grayson directed her steps stood a
stately looking lady, who advanced to meet her as she entered, and
kissing her affectionately, asked, "Are you not going with us this
evening?"

"No; my sore throat has increased, and the Doctor is positive; there is
no appeal from him, you know; I am very sorry, for I wished to see some
of Philip's foreign graces," she said playfully, as she turned to give
her hand to a gentleman who had entered while she was speaking. He
received it with the frank kindness of a brother, but before he could
reply the door of the drawing-room opened, and Caroline Danby appeared
within it. Philip Oswald sprang forward to greet her, and from that
moment seemed forgetful that there was any other thing in life deserving
his attention, save her radiant beauty. Perhaps there was some little
regard to the effect of his first glance at that beauty, in her
presenting herself in the drawing-room with her cloak and hood upon her
arm, the diamond sparkling in her uncovered tresses, and the soft, rich
folds of her satin dress and its flowing lace draperies, shading without
conceali