s heart or yet more muddled brains than
she had thought.

"So, then," reverted Letty, as if willing to turn definitively from the
subject, "you are actually living with the beautiful Mrs. Redmain! What
a lucky girl you are! You will see no end of grand people! You will see
my Tom sometimes--when I can't!" she added, with a sigh that went to
Mary's heart.

"Poor thing!" she said to herself, "it isn't anything much out of the
way she wants--only a little more of a foolish husband's company!"

It was no wonder that Tom found Letty dull, for he had just as little
of his own in him as she, and thought he had a great store--which is
what sends a man most swiftly along the road to that final poverty in
which even that which he has shall be taken from him.

Mary did not stay so long with Letty as both would have liked, for she
did not yet know enough of Hesper's ways. When she got home, she
learned that she had a headache, and had not yet made her appearance.

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE EVENING STAR.

Notwithstanding her headache, however, Mrs. Redmain was going in the
evening to a small fancy-ball, meant for a sort of rehearsal to a great
one when the season should arrive. The part and costume she had chosen
were the suggestion of her own name: she would represent the Evening
Star, clothed in the early twilight; and neither was she unfit for the
part, nor was the dress she had designed altogether unsuitable either
to herself or to the part. But she had sufficient confidence neither in
herself nor her maid to forestall a desire for Mary's opinion. After
luncheon, therefore, she sent for Miss Marston to her bedroom.

Mary found her half dressed, Folter in attendance, a great heap of pink
lying on the bed.

"Sit down, Mary," said Hesper, pointing to a chair; "I want your
advice. But I must first explain. Where I am going this evening, nobody
is to be herself except me. I am not to be Mrs. Redmain, though, but
Hesper. You know what Hesper means?"

Mary said she knew, and waited--a little anxious; for sideways in her
eyes glowed the pink of the chosen Hesperian clouds, and, if she should
not like it, what could be done at that late hour.

"There is my dress," continued the Evening Star, with a glance of her
eyes, for Folter was busied with her hair; "I want to know your opinion
of it." Folter gave a toss of her head that seemed to say, "Have not
_I_ spoken?" but what it really did mean, how should other mortal know?
f