as for _her_--But I
suppose you wanted to show the contrast."

"Nay, that's ill-natured," answered Sara, "She is a sweet little
creature, and my very particular friend."

Here Olive, blushing and happy, doubted whether she ought not to come
out of the curtains. It was almost wrong to listen--only her beloved
Sara often said she had no secrets from Olive.

"Yes, I know she is your friend, and Mr. Charles Geddes' great friend
too; if I were you, I should be almost jealous."

"Jealous of Olive--how very comical!" and the silver laugh was a little
scornful. "To think of Olive's stealing any girl's lover! She, who will
probably never have one in all her life--poor thing!"

"Of course not; nobody would fall in love with her! But there is a
waltz, I must run away. Will you come?"

"Presently--when I have looked in the other room for Olive?"

"Olive is here," said a timid voice. "Oh, Sara, forgive me if I have
done wrong; but I can't keep anything from you. It would grieve me to
think I heard what you were saying, and never told you of it."

Sara appeared confused, and with a quick impulse kissed and fondled her
little friend: "You are not vexed, or pained, Olive?"

"Oh, no--that is, not much; it would be very silly if I were. But," she
added, doubtfully, "I wish you would tell me one thing, Sara--not that I
am proud, or vain; but still I should like to know. Why did you and Jane
Ormond say just now that nobody would ever love me?"

"Don't talk so, my little pet," said Sara, looking pained and puzzled.
Yet, instinctively, her eye glanced to the mirror, where their two
reflections stood. So did Olive's.

"Yes, I know," she murmured. "I am little, and plain, and in figure very
awkward--not graceful like you. Would that make people hate me, Sara?"

"Not hate you; but"----

"Well, go on--nay, I _will_ know all!" said Olive firmly; though
gradually a thought--long subdued--began to dawn painfully in her mind.

"I assure you, dear," began Sara, hesitatingly, "it does not signify to
me, or to any of those who care for you; you are such a gentle little
creature, we forget it all in time. But perhaps with strangers,
especially with men, who think so much about beauty, this defect"----

She paused, laying her arm round Olive's shoulders--even affectionately,
as if she herself were much moved. But Olive, with a cheek that
whitened, and a lip that quivered more and more, looked resolutely at
her own shape imaged in the gl