came into her exquisite
little drawing-room like a princess--say Marguerite of Navarre--ready to
entertain the guests, invariably invited on that evening, in a fashion
that made her quite as popular in this particular social strata as she
was behind the footlights.

From these little suppers Caroline had been carefully excluded up to
this time; but the morning after she had left the young girl in tears
upon her pillow, Olympia broke into her day of luxurious repose by
sending for her agent, with whom she had a rather stormy interview in
the dressing-room, from which Brown came out pale as death, but with an
uprightness of the person, and an expression in the eyes that no one had
ever seen there before.

About an hour after he had departed, Olympia's French maid was seen
hurrying up stairs to the chamber which Caroline occupied, and where she
stood that moment, just as she had sprung from her chair, with a wild
and startled look; for every knock she heard seemed to come from her
mother, whose appearance she dreaded terribly that morning. But, instead
of Olympia, the French maid came in, with a creamy-white dress of India
gauze thrown over her arm, its whiteness broken up by the blue ripple of
a broad sash, with a purple tinge in it; and in her hands the woman
carried some half-open moss-roses, with a delicate perfume absolutely
breaking from their hearts, as if they were the outgrowth of a generous
soil--which they were not, however difficult it might be to decide from
a first or second look; these French are so like nature in everything
but themselves.

The French maid laid these things daintily on Caroline's bed, where the
roses glowed out, as if cast upon the crust of a snow-bank. Then,
looking upon the girl's magnificent hair, which was simply turned back
from her forehead and done in braids behind, she said, with pretty,
broken speech:

"I will do it in crimp and puffs, if mademoiselle pleases. With her
face, it will be charming."

Caroline drew a deep breath, and cast a half-frightened, half-pleased
glance at her maid, Eliza, who stood near by, looking grimly at
preparations she could not understand. This was not half so dreadful as
the presence she had expected, and the dress was so lovely that she
could not keep her eyes from it.

"What is it all about?" questioned staunch America, with a look at
France which was not altogether friendly.

"It is," answered the French maid, spreading out her little hands