re blinded by their passions; but when
these have worn themselves out, they see the truth in all its horrible
nakedness. One of these days you'll tell me that I am right. You have
been a good deal in the world lately; tell me if you have found it
beautiful. You didn't believe me when I told you that men were vile and
abominable; you said there were good men in the world, that you were
sure of it. Have you found them? Was Mr. Harding so very perfect?'

Alice coloured again; she hesitated, and in the silence Cecilia again
divined her friend's thoughts.

'A very poor ideal indeed, it seems to me that you set yourself--to make
the best of this wretched world.'

'I cannot understand what good can come of craving after the
unattainable,' said Alice, looking earnestly out of her grey sharp eyes.

'True beauty lies only in the unattainable,' said Cecilia, lifting her
eyes with that curious movement of the eyeball by which painters
represent faith and mysticism.

At the end of a long silence, Alice said:

'But you'll have some tea, will you not, Cecilia?'

'Yes; but don't let us go downstairs.'

'We'll have it up here; Barnes will bring it up.'

'Oh, that will be so nice.'

The girls drew closer to the fire, and in its uniting warmth they looked
into the ardent face of their friendship, talking, at first, conscious
of the appropriateness of their conversation; but soon forgetful of the
more serious themes they had been discussing, questions were asked and
answered, and comments passed, upon the presentations, the dresses, the
crowds, upon all their acquaintances.

'It is given out, Alice dear, that Lord Kilcarney is coming down to stay
at Brookfield. Is it true?'

'I have heard nothing of it. Whom did you hear it from?'

'Well, the Duffys wrote it to my sisters. The Duffys, you know, have all
the Dublin news.'

'What dreadful gossips they are! And the wonderful part of it is that
they often tell you that things have happened long before they do
happen.'

'Yes; I have noticed that. They anticipate the news.'

The girls laughed lightly, and Cecilia continued:

'But tell me, which do you think he admires most, Olive or Violet? The
rumour goes that he pays Violet great attentions. The family is, of
course, wild about it. She hasn't a penny piece, and Olive, they say,
has a good deal of money.'

'I don't know.'

'You must show me the dress you wore. You described it beautifully in
your letter. You must have l