nd a feminine conclave assembled in her room, all
having prepared their own toilets, and ready to inspect the preparation
of hers; and as the work proceeded, Lottie Humphreys added herself to
the group, in grand _tenue_, and pushed Hazel aside, that she might bind
up Eloise's already braided hair, and indulge herself in the interim
with sundry fervent ejaculations.

"Isn't he splendid?" whispered Lottie, while Laura compared bracelets
with Emma Houghton. "Oh, there, isn't he splendid? It's like the king
coming down from his throne, when he speaks to you; it puts my heart in
a flutter. How do you dare ask him to pass the butter? Now just tell
_me_. Are you engaged to him? Tell me truly, only shake your head, yes
or no. No? I don't believe a word you say. Mean to be? Then, I
declare----Suppose now, only just suppose, suppose he'd look at me?"

"Oh, what a silly little goose you are, Lottie Humphreys! And you've put
geraniums in my hair, when I meant to wear those beautiful blue
poison-bells!"

"I never saw any one so dark as you are wear so much blue."

"But it's becoming to me, isn't it?" said Eloise, turning with her
smile, as radiant for Lottie as for Marlboro'.

"St. George," said Marlboro', with a beaming face bent over his
shoulder, as he took Eloise out to dinner, "my intention was the
earlier; it will succeed!"

"As being the eldest born and heir to the succession. Does the good
general expose his campaign?"

"There we are quits. It is precisely as a good general that I exposed
it."

"But did the Levites unveil the sacred ark?" said Mr. St. George,
severely.

"We are talking freemasonry, Miss Changarnier," said Marlboro', and they
moved on.

* * * * *

Whether she would or not, Eloise found herself in exactly the same
position in the house as before her adopted father's death,--partly
because almost all the company, being old friends, recognized no
difference, partly because Mr. St. George silently chose it should be
so. She soon forgot herself entirely in the pleasure of it, and was
unconsciously, even towards Mr. St. George, so sweet and genial, so
blithe and bewitching, that his scanning glance would suddenly have to
fall, since an expression, he felt, entered it that he dared not have
her see. There was always a certain disarray about the costume of
Eloise; one tress of her hair was always drooping too low, or one thrust
back behind the beautiful temple and tiny ea