was not conscious now that she had ever
entertained any such feelings. She was not obliged, in common phrase,
to "eat her own words," for she quite forgot that she had ever uttered
them. And now, with the utmost enthusiasm, she entered into all her
plans and prospects--told Augusta, with the greatest interest, as if
she thought the theme must be equally delightful to her friend--all
her mother's long story about the old Hazlewoods, and what a "charming
nice family they were," ("those pattern people that she hated so," as
Augusta remembered, but all of which was buried in the happiest
oblivion with Angila,) and the dear little house that was being
furnished like a bijou next to Mrs. Constant's, (next to Mrs.
Constant's!--one of those small houses with low ceilings! Augusta
gasped;) and how many servants she was going to keep; and what a nice
young girl she had engaged already as waiter.

"You mean, then, to have a woman waiter?" Augusta could not help
saying.

"Oh, to be sure!" said Angila. "What should I do with a man in such a
pretty little establishment as I mean to have. And then you know we
must be economical--Mr. Hazlewood is a young lawyer, and I don't mean
to let him slave himself to make the two ends meet. You'll see what a
nice economical little housekeeper I'll be."

And, in short, Augusta found that the same bright, warm imagination
that had made Angila once dream of Ossian-heroes, now endowed Robert
Hazlewood with every charm she wanted, and even threw a romantic glow
over a small house, low ceilings, small economies, and all but turned
the woman-servant into a man. Cinderella's godmother could hardly have
done more. Such is the power of love!

"Well," said Augusta, in talking it all over with her brother, "I
cannot comprehend it yet; Angila, who used to be so fastidious, so
critical, who expected so much in the man she was to marry!"

"She is not the first young lady who has come down from her pedestal,"
replied her brother, laughing.

"No, but she has not," returned Augusta, "that's the oddest part of
the whole--she has only contrived somehow to raise Hazlewood on a
pedestal, too. You'd think they were the only couple in the world
going to be married. She's actually in love with him, desperately in
love with him; and it was only just before I went to New Orleans that
she said--"

"My dear," interrupted her mother, "there's no subject on which women
change their minds oftener than on this. Love wo