by
limpid mirrors; curtains of richly tinted satin shut out a perfect view
of the ocean, and Elizabeth could not help remarking that the principal
windows faced northward, away from the bloom and glory of the grounds.
Even her dressing-room, which was in one of the octagon towers, looked
out on the only barren spot in view--a storm-beaten grove of cedars that
stood, ragged and bristling with dead limbs, on the beach.

Spite of herself, Elizabeth was chilled. She loved the morning sunshine
like a worshiper, and felt as if all the grandeur which surrounded her
was shutting it out from her own portion of this new home.

"Did Mr. Mellen arrange these rooms?" she asked in a faltering voice.
"Was it his taste?"

"Dear me, not at all," answered Elsie. "He exhausted himself in fitting
up my snuggery. The rest was left to me. I had _carte blanche_, you
know, as to money; and it was splendid fun going about and ordering
things. Don't you remember how much I used to be away from school?"

Elizabeth smiled, and made an effort to appear thankful and pleased.

"See what close neighbors we are," said Elsie, lifting a curtain that
seemed to drape a window, but revealing a door which she pushed open.

Elizabeth stepped forward, and in contrast with the rich gloom of her
own chamber, saw a suite of the brightest, sunniest rooms, that ever a
capricious beauty inhabited.

The dressing-room which she entered, was hung with bright, cerulean
blue, overrun with what seemed to be a delicate pattern of point-lace.
The carpet was thick, soft, and almost as white as ermine, with a
tangled vine of golden water-lilies and broad, green leaves running over
it, as if the water they grew in had been crusted with snow, and the
blossoms, soft, fresh, and bright, frozen upon the surface. The couch,
easy-chair, and general furniture, were of polished satin-wood,
cushioned with delicate azure silk shot and starred with silver. A
luxurious number of silken cushions lay upon the couch, chairs, and even
on the floor; for two or three were heaped against the pedestal, on
which a basket of flowers stood, and upon them lay a guitar, with its
broad, pink ribbon hanging loose. Every table was loaded with some
exquisitely feminine object of use or beauty, till the very profusion
was oppressive, light and graceful as every thing was.

Two of the windows were open, and their lace curtains held back, one by
a marble Hebe that mingled her cold stone flowers with