BEAUTY. 125

 

beautiful to be hidden even under a film
of gossamer.

“‘ Nor under-sleeves ?”

“Why, aunt! How you do talk!”

“‘ Where are your combs ?”

Mary tossed her head until every free
ringlet danced in the brilliant light, and
fluttered around her spotless neck and
bosom.

“ Ah, child!” sighed Mrs. Hartley ; “this
is all an error, depend upon it. Attire
like yours never won for any maiden that
respect for which the heart has reason to
be proud.”

“Oh, aunt! Why will you talk so? Do
you really think I am so weak as to dress
with the mere end of attracting attention?
You pay me a poor compliment !”

“Then why do you dress in a manner
so unbecoming ?”

“T think it very becoming!” And Mary
threw her eyes again upon the mirror.

“Time, I trust, will correct your error,”
said Mrs. Hartley, speaking partly to her-