wrong? Nay, something. And why had Mrs. Sandford "feared" I
would not go to the hops? Were they not places for Christians to go
to? What earthly harm? Only pleasure. But what if pleasure that marred
better pleasure--that interrupted duty? And why was I ruminating on
styles and colours, and proposing to put on another dress that should
be more becoming the next time? and thinking that it would be well it
should be a contrast to Faustina St. Clair? What! entering the lists
with her, on her own field? No, no; I could not think of it. But what
then? And what was this little flutter at my heart about gentlemen's
words and looks of homage and liking? What could it be to me, that
such people as Captain Vaux or Captain Lascelles liked me? Captain
Lascelles, who when he was not dancing or flirting was pleased to curl
himself up on one of the window seats like a monkey, and take a
grinning survey of what went on. Was I flattered by such admiration as
his?--or _any_ admiration? I liked to have Mr. Thorold like me; yes, I
was not wrong to be pleased with that; besides, that was _liking_; not
empty compliments. But for my lace and my India muslin and my
"Southern elegance"--I knew Colonel Walrus meant me when he talked
about that--was I thinking of admiration for such things as these, and
thinking so much that my Bible reading had lost its charm? What was in
fault? Not the hops? They were too pleasant. It could not be the hops.

I mounted the hill slowly and in a great maze, getting more and more
troubled. I entering the lists with Faustina St. Clair, going in her
ways? I knew these were her ways. I had heard scraps enough of
conversation among the girls about these things, which I then did not
understand. And another word came therewith into my mind, powerful
once before, and powerful now to disentangle the false from the true.
"The world knoweth us not." Did it not know me, last night? Would it
not, if I went there again? But the hops were so pleasant!

It almost excites a smile in me now to think how pleasant they were. I
was only sixteen. I had seen no dancing parties other than the little
school assemblages at Mme. Ricard's; and I was fond of the amusement
even there. Here, it seemed to me, then, as if all prettiness and
pleasantness that could come together in such a gathering met in the
dancing room of the cadets. I think not very differently now, as to
that point. The pretty accompaniments of uniform; the simple style and