Gertrude was a tall, fine-looking girl, but in the expression of her
handsome features there was something wanting. She lacked soul, and no one
ever looked on the cold, proud face of Gertrude Cameron, without being
convinced that she was altogether heartless and selfish.
On this occasion, as she sat in the large armchair, she said to her
waiting maid, "I say, Jane, you must do your best tonight to have me
splendidly dressed."
"Yes, ma'am, I understand," said Jane, and she proceeded to bedeck her
young mistress with all sorts of finery. Her dress consisted of a rich,
white satin, over which was thrown a skirt of handsomely embroidered lace.
All the ornaments of gold and diamonds for which a place could possibly be
found were heaped upon her, and when her toilet was completed, she seemed
one gorgeous mass of jewelry.
"There, that will do," said she, as Jane clasped the last diamond bracelet
on her arm. "I presume this Fanny Middleton has never dreamed of so costly
a dress as I shall appear in tonight."
Meanwhile in another part of the city, another toilet was being made, but
of a different nature. Kate and Frank both were anxious that for once
Fanny should deviate from her usually simple style of dress, and adopt
something more in keeping with her father's wealth. At first Fanny
hesitated, but was finally persuaded, and gave Kate permission to select
for her anything she chose.
As, on the evening of the party, she glanced at the image which her mirror
reflected, she was pardonable for feeling a slight thrill of pleasure.
Frank was in raptures, declaring nothing had ever been seen in New York so
perfectly lovely. And truly, Fanny was beautiful as she stood there
arrayed for the party.
She was dressed in a French robe of white tarlatan, embroidered in boquets
of lilies of the valley in silver. A single japonica rested among the
curls of her bright hair, while her neck was encircled by a necklace of
pearls, and costly bracelets of the same clasped her white, slender
wrists.
"Why, Fanny," said Mr. Miller, "how beautiful you look. What would your
father say could he see you now?"
At the mention of her father's name the teardrops glistened for a moment
in Fanny's eye, and she felt how gladly she would have foregone all the
expected pleasure of that night for the pleasure of again seeing her
distant father. She, however, dashed the tears away, and replied, "I fear
he would think his Sunshine wholly covered up and spoiled by trumpery, as
he calls fashionable dress."