anner not natural to you."

After that Katy brightened wonderfully. The stiffness which at first
was perceptible passed off, and she was Katy Lennox, queening it over
all the city belles, who, because she was married, would not be
jealous--drawing after her a host of gentlemen, and between the sets
holding a miniature court at one end of the room, where the more
desirable of the guests crowded around; flattering her until her little
head ought to have been turned if it was not. To do her justice, she
bore her honors well, and when we were in the carriage, and father
complimented her upon her success, she only said:

"If I pleased you all I am glad."

So many calls as we had the next day, and so many invitations as there
are now on our table for Mrs. Wilford Cameron, while our opera box
between the scenes is packed with beaus, until one would suppose Wilford
might be jealous; but Katy takes it all so quietly and modestly, seeming
only gratified for his sake, that I really believe he enjoys it more
than she does. At all events, he persists in her going, even when she
would rather stay at home, so if she is spoiled, the fault will rest
with him.

February--th.--Poor Katy. Dissipation is beginning to wear upon her,
for she is not accustomed to our late hours, and sometimes falls asleep
while Esther is dressing her. But go she must, for Wilford wills it so,
and she is but an automaton to do his bidding.

Why can't mother let her alone, when everybody seems so satisfied with
her? Somehow, she does not believe that people are as delighted as they
pretend, and so she keeps training and tormenting her until I do not
wonder that Katy sometimes hates to go out, lest she shall unconsciously
be guilty of an impropriety. I pitied her last night, when, after she
was ready for the opera, she came into my room, where I was indulging in
the luxury of a loose dressing gown, with my feet on the sofa. Latterly
she has taken to me, and now sitting down before the fire into which her
blue eyes looked with a steady stare, she said:

"I wish I might stay here with you to-night. I have heard this opera
before, and it will be so tiresome. I get so sleepy while they are
singing, for I never care to watch the acting. I did at first, when it
was new, but now it seems insipid to see them make-believe, while the
theatre is worse yet," and she gave a weary yawn.

In less than three months she has exhausted fashionable life, and I
looked at her