ing
condemned to associate with _clowns_ and _laborers_ was
really MORE than I could bear. Do write to me,
darling, and tell me HOW you are enduring it. You
were _always_ so sensitive; why, I can see your lip curl
_now_, when any of the girls did anything that was not _tout
a fait comme il faut_! and the _air_ with which you used to
say, "The _little_ things, my dear, are the _only_ things!"
How _true_ it is! I feel it more and more _every_ day. So
_do_ write _at once_, and let me know _all_ about your dear
self. I picture you to myself sometimes, pale and thin, with
the "_white disdain_" that some poet or other speaks of, in
your face, but enduring all the HORRORS that you
must be subjected to with your OWN DIGNITY. Dearest
Hilda, you are _indeed_ a HEROINE!

Always, darling,
Your own deeply _devoted_ and _sympathizing_
MADGE.

Hildegarde looked up after reading this letter, and, curiously enough,
her eyes fell directly on a little mirror which hung on the wall
opposite. In it she saw a rosy, laughing face, which smiled back
mischievously at her. There were dimples in the cheeks, and the gray
eyes were fairly dancing with life and joyousness. Where was the "white
disdain," the dignity, the pallor and emaciation? Could this be Madge's
Queen Hildegarde? Or rather, thought the girl, with a sudden revulsion
of feeling, could this Hildegarde ever have been the other? The form of
"the minx," long since dissociated from her thoughts and life, seemed to
rise, like Banquo's ghost, and stare at her with cold, disdainful eyes
and supercilious curl of the lip. Oh DEAR! how dreadful it was
to have been so odious! How could poor dear Papa and Mamma, bless them,
have endured her as they did, so patiently and sweetly? But they should
see when they came back! She had only just begun yet; but there were two
months still before her, and in that time what could she not do? They
should be surprised, those dear parents! And Madge--why, Madge would be
surprised too. Poor Madge! To think of her in Saratoga, prinking and
preening herself like a gay bird, in the midst of a whirl of dress and
diamonds and gayety, with no fields, no woods, no glen, no--no
_kitchen_! Hilda looked about the room which she had learned so to love,
trying to fancy Madge Everton in it; remembering, too, the bitterness of
her first feeling about it. The lampli