Cornelia grew white with anger, and the stranger asked, with a

smile, if he should consider this a sample of the society she

boasted of. Turning abruptly to Laura, she replied, with undisguised

contempt: "The Fates forbid, Mr. Falconer, that you should judge American

society from some of the specimens you may see here to-night!

Misfortune placed Miss Benton, at an early age, in an orphan asylum,

and while quite young she left it to earn a support. Mrs. Martin

(this young lady's mother) hired her as a nurse; but she soon left

this position, qualified herself to teach, and now, with a fine

intellect thoroughly cultivated, is the pride of all who can

appreciate true nobility of soul and, of course, an object of envy

and detraction to her inferiors, especially to some of our

fashionable parvenus, whose self-interest prompts them to make money

alone the standard of worth, and who are in the habit of determining

the gentility of different persons by what they have, not what they

are."

Her scornful glance rested witheringly on Laura's face, and,

mortified and enraged, the latter took her companion's arm and moved

away.

"I have some desire to become acquainted with one who could deserve

such eulogy from you," answered the foreigner, somewhat amused at

the course the conversation had taken and quite satisfied that

Americans were accustomed to correct false impressions in rather an

abrupt manner.

"I will present you to her with great pleasure. She is not here; we

must search for her."

She took his arm, and they looked for Beulah from room to room;

finally, Dr. Hartwell informed Cornelia that she had gone home, and,

tired and out of humor, the latter excused herself and prepared to

follow her friend's example. Her father was deep in a game of whist,

her mother unwilling to return home so soon, and Eugene and

Antoinette--where were they? Dr. Hartwell saw her perplexed

expression, and asked: "Whom are you looking for?"

"Eugene."

"He is with your cousin on the west gallery. I will conduct you to

them, if you wish it."

He offered his arm, and noticed the scowl that instantly darkened

her face. Unconsciously her fingers grasped his arm tightly, and she

walked on with a lowering brow. As they approached the end of the

gallery Cornelia saw that the two she sought stood earnestly

conversing. Eugene's arm passed round Antoinette's waist. Dr.

Hartwell watched his companion closely; the light from the window

gleamed over her face and showed it gray and rigid. Her white lips

curled as she muttered: "Let us take another turn before I speak to them."




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