me at dinner. The maid added that Mr. Somers was out of town, and would
not return till evening. After a very uncomfortable hour, during which
I resolutely suspended my opinion with regard to my position, the
dinner-bell rang, and the domestic again appeared to show me to the
dining-room.

"Mrs. Somers met me with extended hand. 'My dear Miss Rankin!' she
exclaimed, 'I am most happy to see you. I have heard George speak of
you so often and so warmly that I consider you quite as a relative. Come
directly to the table. I am sure you must be famished after your long
ride. I hope you will make yourself one of us, at once, and let me call
you Fanny. May I call you Cousin Fanny?' she pursued, with an air of
sweet condescension that was meant to be irresistible.

"'As you please,' I replied coldly.

"To which she quickly responded, 'Oh, that will be delightful.'

"She then turned to superintend the carving of a fowl, and I had time
to look at her undisturbed. She was tall and finely formed, with small
delicate features, and an exquisite grace in every movement; a haughty
sweetness that was perfectly indescribable. She had very beautiful
teeth, which she showed liberally when she smiled, and in her graver
moments her slight features wore an imperturbable serenity, as if the
round world contained nothing that was really worth her attention. An
animated statue, cold, polished, and pitiless! was my inward thought, as
I bent over my dinner.

"When the meal was over, Mrs. Somers said to me, in a tone of playful
authority,

"'Now, Cousin Fanny, I want you to go to your room and rest, and not do
an earthly thing until teatime. After that I have a thousand things to
show you.'

"At night I was accordingly shown a great part of the house; a costly
residence, and exquisitely furnished, but, alas! I already wearied of
this icy splendour. Every smile of my beautiful hostess (I could not now
call her sister), every tone of her soft voice, every movement of her
superb form, half queen-like dignity, half fawn-like grace--seemed to
place an insurmountable barrier between herself and me. It was not that
I thought more humbly of myself--not that I did not even consider myself
her equal--but her dainty blandishments were a delicate frost-work, that
almost made me shiver and when, she touched her cool lips to mine, and
said 'Good-night, dear,' I felt as if even then separated from her real,
living self, by a wall of freezing marble.

"