see you in the glass yet; go away so that I can't see you
anywhere, Minn."

Weeping bitterly, Minny retired to the other apartment; and Della, with
folded hands, sat quite still with downcast eyes and pallid cheeks,
looking like a statue of meditation.

A little French clock upon the mantle-piece struck the hour, and went on
with its monotonous tick, tick--that unobtrusive voice of warning and
admonition--until the half hour was sweetly chimed, and still Della sat
there, pale, and still thinking. At length she rose, and with an energy
unusual with her, walked hastily back and forth across the room. It had
a soothing effect, and her brow was calm and resolute, yet shadowed as
if with some new lesson of life, harshly forced upon her. She seated
herself once more before the mirror.

"Minny, I am ready for you now."

Minny came, with her face calm and corpse-like, and once more essayed to
bind up the rich bands of hair.

"Place my wreath a little more front. My cheek needs the shade of that
bright rose to relieve its pallor--so--that effect is charming."

"Your hair is dressed, Miss."

Della sprang to her feet like one who resolutely tossed some load from
the heart, and taking the hand-mirror from the table, surveyed the
arrangement of her hair altogether.

"Beautiful! Minny, you have excelled yourself to-night."

"Thank you, Miss. What dress?"

"My India mull, and the rose-colored ribbons."

The dress was brought, and Della stood before the full-length mirror
while Minny fastened it.

"Tie my shoulder-knots in your prettiest manner, Minny."

"Yes, Miss; and my reward shall be a rehearsal of the list of
conquests?"

"I suppose so," smiled Della; "Minn, I pet you a great deal too much."

"I know it, Miss; and make me love you a great deal too well."

Della sighed.

At this moment there was a tap at the door, and Mrs. Delancey, in full
evening costume, entered the room.

"Most ready, dort, darling?"

"Yes, mamma, I will be down in a few minutes."

"You look very sweetly in that simple dress; what prompted you to choose
that to-night, treasure?"

"An instinctive knowledge, I presume, mamma, that I would look very
sweetly in it," replied Della, archly.

Mrs. Delancey was a fine-looking woman--very fussy and very French. She
smiled, and displayed her brilliant teeth at her daughter's answer, then
stooped, and kissed her brow. Mrs. Delancey loved her child, with all
the strength of affection she was