er delight. 'Oh!' she exclaimed, 'you can't
think how beautiful you are!'

'Isn't she?' said a proud, playful voice. 'Thank you;' but seeing Emma
disconcerted, Arthur hastened down-stairs.

'Oh, I didn't know he was there!'

'Never mind!' said Violet, among her blushes. 'I'm glad he was. He liked
it.'

'I could not help it,' said Emma. 'You are so like a story! I can hardly
believe you are real!'

Violet felt familiar enough to prove herself substantial by a playful
pinch. 'But look here! See what I found on my table.'

'One of those serpent bracelets. It is very pretty!'

'Was not it kind of Lord Martindale?'

'You have to thank him for it! Oh! dreadful!'

'I don't mind speaking to him. It is so kind. "Mrs. A. Martindale, from
her affectionate father," the direction said. Oh! it is so very,
very pleasant that he should be so kind to me. Is not it a beautiful
creature! Look at its scales and its crown, and eyes. Arthur says they
are sapphires.'

'Yes, I never saw a prettier one.'

'I wish Annette could see it, and all at home. Is it not like a creature
in a fairy tale?'

'Like Zelinda's singing serpents?'

'Just like them. Do you know, I sometimes think I have got into a fairy
tale. Everything is so beautiful and so bewildering, and unlike what I
fancied.'

'Because you are so like a fairy princess yourself. Are you sure you
have not a talisman ring!'

'I think I have,' and Violet pulled off her glove. 'There--that
forget-me-not--the first ring I ever had. From the day he gave me that
it has all been so strange, that now and then I have been almost afraid
to awake, for fear it should not be true. But may I look at that diamond
butterfly of yours? It shines as if it would flash in the dark.'

'Never mind mine. Stupid things that came as heir-looms, and have no
pleasure belonging to them. The only thing I do care for is this'--and
she drew out a locket from within her dress. 'There, that is my father's
hair, and that is my little brother's. They both died before I can
remember; and there is dear mamma's nice pepper-and-salt lock round
them.'

Theodora swept by in black lace, her coronal of hair wreathed with large
pearls, and her lofty air like the Tragic Muse.

'Comparing ornaments! Worthy of such a friendship,' thought she, as
she held back, and made them go down before her, Emma glad to hold by
Violet's arm for protection.

Mrs. Nesbit was in the drawing-room talking to Lady Elizabeth, and wit