?" I drily said.

"How do I look--how do I look to-night?" she demanded.

"As usual," said I; "preposterously vain."

"Caustic creature! You never have a kind word for me; but in spite of
you, and all other envious detractors, I know I am beautiful; I feel
it, I see it--for there is a great looking-glass in the dressing-room,
where I can view my shape from head to foot. Will you go with me now,
and let us two stand before it?"

"I will, Miss Fanshawe: you shall be humoured even to the top of your
bent."

The dressing-room was very near, and we stepped in. Putting her arm
through mine, she drew me to the mirror. Without resistance
remonstrance, or remark, I stood and let her self-love have its feast
and triumph: curious to see how much it could swallow--whether it was
possible it could feed to satiety--whether any whisper of consideration
for others could penetrate her heart, and moderate its vainglorious
exultation.

Not at all. She turned me and herself round; she viewed us both on all
sides; she smiled, she waved her curls, she retouched her sash, she
spread her dress, and finally, letting go my arm, and curtseying with
mock respect, she said: "I would not be you for a kingdom."

The remark was too _naive_ to rouse anger; I merely said: "Very good."

"And what would _you_ give to be ME?" she inquired.

"Not a bad sixpence--strange as it may sound," I replied. "You are but
a poor creature."

"You don't think so in your heart."

"No; for in my heart you have not the outline of a place: I only
occasionally turn you over in my brain."

"Well, but," said she, in an expostulatory tone, "just listen to the
difference of our positions, and then see how happy am I, and how
miserable are you."

"Go on; I listen."

"In the first place: I am the daughter of a gentleman of family, and
though my father is not rich, I have expectations from an uncle. Then,
I am just eighteen, the finest age possible. I have had a continental
education, and though I can't spell, I have abundant accomplishments. I
_am_ pretty; _you_ can't deny that; I may have as many admirers as I
choose. This very night I have been breaking the hearts of two
gentlemen, and it is the dying look I had from one of them just now,
which puts me in such spirits. I do so like to watch them turn red and
pale, and scowl and dart fiery glances at each other, and languishing
ones at me. There is _me_--happy ME; now for _you_, poor soul!

"I suppose you are