This reception, like all others, came to an end at last. Everybody expressed themselves as highly delighted with their entertainment, and one by one reluctantly took their departure; the gay lanterns on the lawn and among the shrubbery went out, the lights inside the splendid mansion were finally extinguished, and only the quiet starlight illumined Terrace Hill.
Mrs. Hayden, from her high bay window, looked out over the sleeping city, then at the North Star that beamed so brightly above her—that unerring beacon-light that guides so many lost mariners into port. Some deep thought must have moved her, some hidden impulse stirred her mind. She sighed. There was no visible reason for it. Then she turned and went down the stairs to the nursery. Her two babies were sleeping sweetly. Mabel was asleep in her room, and all was quiet. The hush seemed oppressive after so much gay confusion. Now she was in another element. Now she was the mother, then she was a fashionable woman. She hastened back to her room, once more gazed without and then thoughtfully retired.
CHAPTER II.
"Christianity is not a theory or a speculation, but a life; not a philosophy of life, but a life and a living process."—Coleridge.
Kate Turner walked slowly along the street at the foot of Terrace Hill. She looked up at the beautiful home where she had spent the previous evening, and as she saw the velvet lawn and terraced walks bordered with bright flowers, she half pitied herself because she was only a plodding music teacher. She was not envious, but she had such longing aspirations to be somebody in the world; she wanted so many things, needed so much to complete her education, and starved herself in so many ways for the sake of completing it, that sometimes she grew discontented with her lot. Fortunately her moods did not last long, however, and especially when she went home to her artist friend, Grace, with whom she shared rooms. They were both making their own way in the world, and were a great help to each other, as well as a great comfort.
Kate was wondering what Mrs. Hayden did every day with her leisure. She should think she would be tired always going to parties and lunches and operas, or receiving calls. "But then, I am thankful to know her," she concluded, casting a last glance at the stately mansion before turning the corner. "After all, life might be worse for me, and I can be a happy nobody if not a famous somebody," she said to herself, as she ran upstairs, after stopping at the baker's for a loaf of bread and a pot of jam.
"Well, Gracious, what noble message have you given to the world through your work to-day?" she cried, a moment later, gaily peering into the studio through the portières that separated their parlor from the work room.
"Is that you, Kate? Well, I've been trying the whole afternoon to make this Hebe look like a modern Hypatia, but——"
"In other words," interrupted Kate, "you would change innocence into intellect. Now, look here, Grace, just leave this dainty girl alone. She would never do to serve the gods if you gave her the aspect and bearing of a goddess. Let her alone, or the world would not recognize her as a representative woman," laughed Kate, inspecting the picture with critical eyes.