ou want? To live pleasantly, of course; for
not to do _that_, is not what I call living."

"I was not thinking of pleasant living. But--I do not want my life to
be like those horses running to-day," said Dolly smiling; "for nothing;
of no use."

"Don't you think a woman is of use and fills her place, my dear, who
looks after her household and attends to her family, and does her duty
by society?"

"Yes," said Dolly hesitating,--"but that is not enough." The girl was
thinking of her own mother at the moment.

"Not enough? Why, yes, it is enough. That is a woman's place and
business. What else would you do?"

Dolly was in some embarrassment now. She must answer, for Mrs. St.
Leger was waiting for it; but her answer could not be understood. Her
eye took in again the rich appliances for present enjoyment which
filled the room, above, below, and around her; and then she said, her
eye coming back--

"I would like my life to be good for something that would not pass
away."

"Not pass away? Why, everything passes away, my child" (and there came
a sigh here),--"in time. The thing is to make the best of them while we
have them."

Is that all? thought Dolly, as she noticed the untested, rather sad
look of her hostess's face; and she wished she could say more, but she
dared not. Then young Mr. St. Leger bent forward, and inquired what she
could be thinking of that would _not_ pass away? His mother saw the
look with which his blue eyes sought the face of the little stranger;
and turned away with another sigh, born half of sympathy with her boy's
feeling and half of jealousy against the subject of it. Dolly saw the
look too, but did not comprehend it. She simply wondered why these
people put her through the catechism so?

"What could you be thinking of?" St. Leger repeated, sliding into the
seat his mother had quitted.

"Don't you know anything that will last?" Dolly retorted.

"No," said the young man, laughing. "Do you? Except that I have heard
that 'A thing of beauty is a joy forever.'"

This, which was a remarkable flight for St. Leger, was lost upon simple
Dolly.

"Oh, I know that is true," she answered; "but that is just a way of
speaking. It would not be a joy to me, if I had not something else to
hold to. I am sorry for you."

"Really? I wish I could think that. It would be delightful to have you
sorry for me."

"It would be much better not to need it."

"I don't know about that. Perhaps, if you were ver