"Well, to please you, I will; for you look so pretty to-night, I can not resist you."

"Take care, Percy, if you try to turn my head with such speeches, I shall go to Edward, and punish you by not waltzing with you," said his little sister, shaking her head at him with a comic species of reproach.

"That's right, Emmy; do not take flattery even from a brother," said her father, coming forward with a smile; "but will you not tire yourself by dancing already?"

"Oh, no, papa; I feel as if I could dance all night without stopping."

"Not with me, Emmeline," rejoined Percy, shrugging his shoulders with horror at the idea; "I should cry you mercy, before one half the time had elapsed."

"But if you are not to be tired, will you not spoil your dress, and disorder all these flowing curls," continued Mr. Hamilton, "and surely that will be a great misfortune."

"Indeed it will not, papa; Percy has surely too much regard for me, to willfully hurt my frock, and if my hair should be so troublesome as to get out of order, f.a.n.n.y will re-arrange it in a few minutes."

"If you wish to cause alarm on that score, my dear father," said Percy, with marked emphasis, "You must go to Caroline, not to Emmeline. Thank goodness, I have one sister above such petty misfortunes."

"Are you not too hard upon Caroline, Percy?"

"Yes, papa, he is indeed; do not mind what he says," answered Emmeline, very eagerly; but Percy said impetuously--

"I am not, Emmeline. I would lay any wager that some thing has gone wrong with her dressing, to-night, and so made her pettish. Her frock is not smart enough, or she does not wear the ornaments she wished, or some such thing."

Caroline had fortunately quitted the music-room, or this speech would not have tended to restore her serenity; but before Mr. Hamilton could reply, Edward, who had been to seek Ellen, burst into the room exclaiming--

"Now, Percy, we may have a proper waltz; aunt Emmeline says we may have just one before any one comes, and here she is to play for us, and Ellen for my partner," and they enjoyed it in earnest. Mr. Hamilton watched them for a few minutes, and then went to seek his elder girl.

She was alone in a little room prepared for refreshments, tastefully arranging some beautiful flowers in a bouquet. She looked up as he entered, and so smiled that her fond father thought Percy must be wrong, for there certainly seemed no trace of ill-temper.

"Why are you not with your brothers and sister in the drawing-room, my dear? and why did you just now refuse your brother such a trifling favor as playing a waltz?" he asked, but so kindly, that Caroline, though she blushed deeply, instantly replied--

"Because, papa, my temper was not quite restored; I went into the music-room to try mamma's remedy of solitude for a few minutes, but Percy spoke to me before I had succeeded. I know I answered him pettishly, but indeed, papa," she added, looking up earnestly in his face, "indeed he is very provoking sometimes."

"I know he is, my love; he does not always know how to time his jokes, or to make sufficient allowance for dispositions not exactly like his own; but tell me, what first occasioned temper so to fail that solitude was necessary."

Caroline's blush became still deeper, and she turned away her head saying, very hesitatingly--

"For such a very, _very_ silly reason, papa, that I do not like to tell you."

"Nay, my dear, do not fear that I shall either laugh at or reproach you.

If you feel yourself how very silly it was, I am not afraid of its gaining too great ascendency, even if you fail again."

"It was only--only--that I was not quite satisfied with the dress mamma desired me to wear to-night, papa; that was all, indeed."

"You wished, perhaps, to wear a smarter one, my love," replied her father, kissing her glowing cheek so affectionately, that the pain of her confession was instantly soothed; "but, indeed, I think mamma has shown a much better taste. It requires more care than you are yet perhaps aware of to dress so exactly according to our age and station, as to do ourselves justice, and yet excite no unpleasant feelings in those of a lower, and no contempt in those of a higher grade. Many of our friends who are coming to-night could not afford to dress their children as we might ours, and do you not think it would be both inhospitable and unkind, by being over-dressed, to excite any unpleasant feeling of inferiority in their minds, when actually none exists? for difference of fortune alone can never const.i.tute inferiority. I am wizard enough to guess that was mamma's reason for your being attired so simply and yet so prettily to-night, and equally wizard enough to guess your reason for wishing to be smarter--shall I tell it you?" he added, playfully. "Because you fancy Miss Grahame will be attired in such a very fashionable London costume, that yours will appear so very plain and so childish. I see by that conscious smile, I have guessed correctly; but, indeed, I would not exchange my dear ingenuous Caroline, even were she attired in the cottager's stuff frock for Annie Grahame, did she bring worlds as her dowry. And as you like ornaments, wear this," he added, tastefully twining a superb sprig of scarlet geranium in the rich dark hair that shaded Caroline's n.o.ble brow; "and if mamma inquires, tell her your father placed it there, as a token of his approbation, for temper conquered and truth unhesitatingly spoken--spite of pain."

Caroline's brilliant eye sparkled with a more delightful sense of pleasure than any triumph of dress could have bestowed, and in answer to her father's inquiry, for whom she had arranged such a beautiful bouquet, she said--

"It is for mamma, dear papa--Emmeline is always before me; but I think the idea of to-night's enjoyment has so bewildered her, that she has forgotten it, so I may just have time to present it before any one comes," and she hastened with her father to the drawing-room, where she found Mrs. Greville and her two children (for Alfred was at home for a few months), in addition to Mr. Morton and their own family group; and the young clergyman could not but admire the natural grace with which Caroline, after warmly welcoming her guests, presented her flowers to her mother. It was a very little thing, but the joys and griefs of home are almost all made up of little things, and Mrs. Hamilton was pleased, not from the attention alone, but that it proved, trifling as it was, that the annoyance and discontent which her command had occasioned in her child had left no unkind feeling behind them; and the manner with which she received it made Caroline very happy, for she had inwardly feared her ill-temper not only deserved, but had excited her mother's displeasure.

Emmeline's look of disappointment and self-reproach at her own unusual forgetfulness was so irresistibly comic, that Percy and Edward burst into an immoderate fit of laughter, which the former only checked to ask Caroline where she had been, and what she had done, to produce such an extraordinary change for the better in her appearance in so short a time.

"Oh, you have no right to my secrets, Percy," was her perfectly good-humored reply; "I do not think I shall answer you, except by having the charity to refer you to papa, who has produced the change."

"By means of this pretty flower then, I imagine," said Mrs. Hamilton; "its power I do not pretend to know, but the taste with which it is placed might vie with that of the most fashionable artiste of the metropolis. Mrs. Greville, do unite with me in congratulating Mr.

Hamilton on his new accomplishment."

The rapid succession of arrivals prevented any further remark, and very speedily the inspiring sound of the beautiful music, which was stationed in a sort of ante-chamber between the drawing-room and ball-room, removed any thing like stiffness or reserve which the younger guests might have at first experienced among themselves. After two or three quadrilles, the spirit of enjoyment seemed to reign alone, not only among the dancers themselves, but even those who sat out and talked, either from preference or because the sets were full. Percy, his brother, and cousin, were so active, so universal in their attention and politeness, that all had the same measure of enjoyment; there was no sitting down four or five times consecutively for any one, and therefore neither weariness nor dissatisfaction. Where there is a great desire in the givers of a party to make every one as happy as themselves, and thoroughly to enjoy it, they seldom fail to succeed. And there was such a variety of amus.e.m.e.nts in the various rooms that were thrown open, suitable for all ages--from the mammas and papas to the youngest child, that it was scarcely possible to feel any thing but pleasure. Very many sets had been formed and danced before the Grahame family appeared, and as Caroline glanced at her friend and even at her little sister, it required a very vivid recollection of her father's words to prevent a feeling of false shame, while Annie looked at Emmeline and even her favorite Caroline for a few minutes with almost contempt.

"People talk so very much of Mrs. Hamilton's taste," she thought, "but she can have none in dress, that's certain--why no one could distinguish her daughters from the poorest gentleman's here!--But no one can mistake my rank. Thank goodness, there is not a dress like mine--how it will be envied!"

If looks were evidence of envy, Annie had them to her heart's content, but how would she have been mortified, could she have read the secret meaning of those looks, the contrast drawn between the manners and appearance of Lady Helen's daughters and those of the Honorable Mrs.

Hamilton. Lady Helen herself, indeed, when she saw Caroline and Emmeline, was quite provoked that she had been so weak as to permit, and even encourage Annie, to select her own and her sister's costume.

"You are so late," said Mrs. Hamilton, as she came forward to greet them, "that I almost gave you up, fearing I don't exactly know what. I do hope nothing unpleasant has occasioned it."

"Oh, no," was Mr. Grahame's reply, and it was almost bitter; "only Miss Grahame was so dreadfully afraid of being unfashionably early, that her mother did not choose to come before--indeed, my patience and my little Lilla's was so exhausted, that we thought of leaving Cecil to be their beau, and coming alone an hour ago." Lady Helen's look of entreaty at Mrs. Hamilton was answered by her saying directly--

"I suppose Annie was thinking of her London parties, and forgot how completely Gothic we are as to hours and every thing else in Devonshire.

But you must try and forget such superior pleasures to-night, my dear girl," she added, jestingly, though the young lady felt it rather uncomfortably as earnest, "or I fear you will find but little amus.e.m.e.nt." Alfred Greville at that moment came to claim Annie as his partner, and she gladly joined him, for though Mrs. Hamilton had "certainly no taste in dress," she never felt quite at her ease in her presence. Cecil and Lilla were soon provided with little partners, and dancing with much more real delight than their sister.

It was scarcely possible for any one, much less a parent, to look at Caroline that night without admiration. She was so animated, so graceful, so pleasing, and as such completely the center of attraction (and really without any effort on her part) to all the gentlemen, young or old in the room. The lads congregated round her, and it was rather a difficult task to keep clear of offense, when so very many more entreated her to dance than the length of the evening permitted; but she managed to talk to all, and yet not to neglect any of her own s.e.x, for she always refused to dance, if she fancied her being in a quadrille prevented any couple who had not danced so much, and at those times contrived to conciliate five or six instead of only one. Emmeline took charge of the younger children, often refusing to dance with older boys, who would have made her much pleasanter partners, that she might join the little quadrille and set them all right.

"I am really glad to see Ellen among us to-night, and seeming truly to enjoy herself," said Mrs. Greville, addressing Mrs. Hamilton, who was standing rather apart at the moment, watching Caroline with such mingled feelings of pride and dread, that she was quite glad when her friend's voice disturbed her train of thought. "She looked so ill in church yesterday, that I half feared we should not see her. I told her I was quite grieved that she was too unwell to be at Mr. Howard's last Friday, and--"

"What did she say?" inquired Mrs. Hamilton, anxiously.

"That it was not illness which prevented her; but she looked so confused and pained that I changed the subject directly, and the smile soon came back."

"You touched on a very painful theme," replied Mrs. Hamilton, with real relief; "Ellen and I were not quite as good friends as we usually are, last week, and my poor little girl felt my severity more than I imagined or meant. I gave her to your dear Mary's especial care to-night, for she is so timid, that left quite to herself, I was afraid it would be more pain than pleasure. Mary has taken my hint most admirably, for Ellen seems quite happy."

"It would be rather hard, if your little niece's were the only sad face in this scene of enjoyment; surely, if ever there were happiness without alloy, it is here."

"If you think so Mrs. Greville, you will agree with my friend Morton, who has just been half poetizing half philosophizing on this scene,"

said Mr. Hamilton joining them, with the young clergyman leaning on his arm. "He says there is something singularly interesting in watching the countenances and movements of children, and in tracing the dawnings of respective characters."

"You are not one of those, then, who think childhood a mere negative species of existence," rejoined Mrs. Greville.

"Indeed I do not; there is much more pleasure to me in watching such a scene, than a similar one of adults. It is full of that kind of poetry, which, from the beauty and freshness of the present, creates a future of happiness or sorrow, good or evil, as something in each countenance seems dimly to foretell. How many will be the longing thoughts thrown back in after years upon to-night!"

"Do you think then childhood the happiest season of life?"

He answered in the affirmative, but Mr. Hamilton shook his head.

"I differ from you, my good friend," he said. "Childhood feels its griefs as bitterly as those of maturer years. We are apt to think it was all joy in the retrospect, perhaps because it has not the anxiety and cares of riper years, but sorrow itself is felt as keenly. From reason not being perfectly formed, the difficulty to control self-will, to acquiesce in the, to them, incomprehensible wishes of parents or guardians, the restraint they are often compelled to use, must be all trials even to well-regulated children, and to those subject to the caprices of weakness, indolence, neglect, indulgence at one time, and tyranny at another, feelings disbelieved in, and therefore never studied or soothed--the little heart thrown back upon itself--Morton, believe me, these are trials as full of suffering, and as hard to be endured, as those which belong to manhood."

"You may be right," replied Morton; "but do you not think there is an elasticity in childhood which flings off sorrow, and can realize happiness sooner than older years?"

"Undoubtedly, and most happy it is that they are so const.i.tuted, else what would become of them if their susceptibilities for either joy or sorrow are equally quick. If the former did not balance the latter, how would their tender frames and quick affections bear their burden? The idea that childhood is in itself the happiest season in life is so far mischievous, that it prevents the necessary care and watchfulness, which alone can make it so. But we must not philosophize any more, for it has made us all grave. I see my wife is addressing Miss Grahame, and I think it is for music. Come, Morton, take Mrs. Greville to the music-room, and woo melody instead of poetry for the next half hour. Miss Grahame promises to be a very fair musician, so you will be charmed."