ers.'

'Et pourquoi?' asked Charles, coolly.

'I see,' said Philip, retreating to his chair, and speaking with great
composure, 'I did you injustice by speaking seriously.' Then, as his
uncle came into the room, he asked some indifferent question, without
betraying a shade of annoyance.

Charles meanwhile congratulated himself on his valour in keeping his
counsel, in spite of so tall a man in scarlet; but he was much nettled
at the last speech, for if a real attachment to his sister had been
in question, he would never have trifled about it. Keenly alive to his
cousin's injustice, he rejoiced in having provoked and mystified the
impassable, though he little knew the storm he had raised beneath that
serene exterior of perfect self-command.

The carriages were announced, and Mr. Edmonstone began to call the
ladies, adding tenfold to the confusion in the dressing-room. There was
Laura being completed by the lady's maid, Amabel embellishing Mary, Mrs.
Edmonstone with her arm loaded with shawls, Charlotte flourishing about.
Poor Mary--it was much against her will--but she had no heart to refuse
the wreath of geraniums that Amy's own hands had woven for her; and
there she sat, passive as a doll, though in despair at their all waiting
for her. For Laura's toilette was finished, and every one began dressing
her at once; while Charlotte, to make it better, screamed over the
balusters that all were ready but Mary. Sir Guy was heard playing the
'Harmonious Blacksmith,' and Captain Morville's step was heard, fast and
firm. At last, when a long chain was put round her neck, she cried out,
'I have submitted to everything so far; I can bear no more!' jumped
up, caught hold of her shawl, and was putting it on, when there was a
general outcry that they must exhibit themselves to Charles.

They all ran down, and Amy, flying up to her brother, made a splendid
sweeping curtsey, and twirled round in a pirouette.

'Got up, regardless of expense!' cried Charles; 'display yourselves.'

The young ladies ranged themselves in imitation of the book of fashions.
The sisters were in white, with wreaths of starry jessamine. It was
particularly becoming to Laura's bella-donna lily complexion, rich brown
curls, and classical features, and her brother exclaimed:

'Laura is exactly like Apollo playing the lyre, outside mamma's old
manuscript book of music.'

'Has not Amy made beautiful wreaths?' said Laura. 'She stripped the
tree, and Guy had t