“Perhaps you know why it is so?”
“I do!”
“Tell me?”
“Because you are beautiful.”
“If that be her reason, she should be your enemy as much as mine?”
“Oh, no! I have not the vanity to think so. My beauty is only prettiness; while yours—ah! cousin Marion, you are beautiful in my eyes—a woman! What must you be in the eyes of a man?”
“You’re a simpleton, Little Lora. You are much prettier than I; and as for Dorothy Dayrell—don’t every one call her the belle of the county? I’ve heard it a score of times.”
“And so have I. But what signifies that? Though you’re my senior, Marion, I think I have as much wisdom as you in matters of this kind. Besides I’m only a spectator, and can judge between you. I believe that the ‘belle of the county,’ and the ‘belle of the ball-room,’ are never the most beautiful of those, with whom they are compared. Very often such reputation is obtained, not from beauty, but behaviour; and from behaviour not always the best.”
“Go on in that way, Lora; and we shall esteem you as the Solon of our sex.”
“Nay, nay; I speak only sentiments such as anyone may conceive. You and Dorothy Dayrell are just the two to illustrate them. While everybody calls her the belle of the county, everybody thinks you to be so. Indeed cousin! you are truly beautiful—so beautiful, that even the peasant children of the parish gaze upon you with wonder and delight!”