st bid them farewell, for her
future husband was waiting for her in the carriage at the door.

Sophie laughed at her grumbling father, shook hands with her weeping
mother, and bent to kiss the children. Wilhelmine, in unspeakable
anguish, sprang after her, holding her fast, with both hands clinching
the crackling wings. She implored her sister to take her with her, while
the tears ran in streams down her cheeks. "You know that I love you,"
she cried, "and my only pleasure is to see you every day. Take me
with you, and I will serve and obey you, and be your waiting-maid."
Wilhelmine held the wings firmly with a convulsive grasp, and continued
to weep and implore, until Sophie at last laughingly yielded.

"Well, come, if you will be my waiting-maid; no one combs hair as well
as you, and your simple style of arranging it suits me better than any
other. Come, come, it shall be arranged, you shall be my waiting-maid."

The pictures of memory changed, and Wilhelmine saw herself in the midst
of splendor, as the poor little maid, unnoticed by her brilliant sister,
the beloved of the Russian Count Matuschko. Joy and pleasure reigned in
the beautifully gilded apartment where Sophie lived. She was the queen
of the feasts and the balls. Many rich and fine gentlemen came there,
and the beautiful Sophie, the dancer, the affianced of Count Matuschko,
received their homage. No one observed the sad little waiting-maid, in
her dark stuff dress, with her face bound up in black silk, as if she
had the toothache. She wore the cast-off morning dresses of her sister,
and, at her command, bound her face with the black silk, so that the
admirers of her sister should not see, by a fugitive glance, or chance
meeting, the budding beauty of the little maid.

Wilhelmine dared not enter the saloon when visitors were there; only
when Sophie was alone, or her artistic hand was needed to arrange her
sister's beautiful hair, was she permitted to stay with the future
countess. Every rough touch was resented with harsh words, blows, and
ill-treatment. The smiling fairy of the drawing-room, was the harsh,
grim mistress for her sister, whose every mistake was punished with
unrelenting severity. In fact, she was made a very slave; and now,
after long years, the remembrance of it even cast a gloomy shadow over
Wilhelmine's face, and her eyes flashed fire.

Another picture now rose up before her soul, which caused her face to
brighten, as a beautiful beamin