hideth its tired self for rest. Somewhere, but
never among the haunts of men. The deep hath its treasures, and there
are treasures of the mine; the mind hath its treasures, and there are
treasures of store; but content is the golden treasure, hardest of all
to find, and when found hardest to keep.

One night there was a ball, and the social lights of Pudney and
Cragmore, and the capital of the State itself, turned out in full
force. The Bigge House was crammed to its utmost capacity.

Dressing early, Mell left her room to other guests, in various stages
of evening toilet, and descending to the first floor, looked about her
for some quiet spot where, for a time, she could hide herself and her
tumultuous thoughts. The large reception room was dimly lighted as
yet, and empty apparently. Glad to find it so, she walked in, and
standing between the long pier-glasses, a tapering column draped in
tulle clouds, took a full-length, back and front inspection of her own
person.

Now this dainty rustic maiden, as we have seen, looked at when framed
in a high-necked, long-sleeved, simple morning-gown, made a sweet
picture for any eye; but it was, in some respects, a tame presentation
compared to this gorgeously arrayed being, bedecked in flowers and a
low corsage, with marble shoulders, shapely throat, alabaster neck and
rounded arms, bewilderingly displayed, cunningly concealed. This
fairy-like being cannot be a _bona fide_ woman; she is more likely a
study from Reynolds or Gainsborough, who has stepped out of canvas and
a gilt frame on the wall there, merely to delight the living eye and
inflame the fumes of vital fancy.

Not long, however, whether sprite or woman, did she pose there in
admiration of her own face and figure. For, truth to tell, they have
both become hateful in the girl's own sight. Her fair face looks to
herself no longer as a fresh-gathered blossom sparkling with dew, as
the ethereal interpreter of a woman's pure soul, blameless and serene.
Much more does it look, to her own acute sensibilities, as a painted
mask, put on for hard service; always in place, always properly
adjusted, proof against attack, but every little loophole needing to
be defended at every point. A mask very troublesome to wear, but not
upon any account to be discarded, since it concealed the discordance
of a secret love and the clanking of a chain.

But now, to-night, in this empty room, in this deep silence and
blessed solitude, where t