"No, no, nothing shall be said against you which I can help," cried Lucy, "and I will go to the ball, if you wish it—but I should be so happy to stay with you, I shall try and get some friend to bring me home early; but let me help you, dear Mabel."
"I have done, thank you, only, like all travelling trunks, this lid will not close—jump upon the top of it and press it down for me."
Lucy did so, but her light weight had very little effect on the obstinate trunk, so that they were obliged to stand hand-in-hand upon it, and stamp it down with all their might. They could not do this without laughing, and then Mabel leant down and turned the key in the lock, and kissed her fair-haired companion, when she raised herself again, and they jumped off the defeated trunk.
But now that all was packed but the bonnet and travelling cloak, and the neatly folded umbrella, the room looked again as desolate as it did when she had first entered it; and yet so many hallowed recollections of resignation learnt, and evil thoughts subdued, were connected with that poor room, that Mabel felt that she could readily have wept at parting from it, for the last time, but checking herself, she went with Lucy down stairs, and busied herself in choosing her a dress for the ball.
After dinner, she retired immediately with Caroline, and, glad of employment, was soon, almost gaily, twining the silken tresses of her raven hair, with more than her ordinary skill, and talking, all the while, of flowers, and braids, and ornaments, as if she had no other thought that night. And how could Caroline fail to be satisfied, when she cast her proud glance upon the mirror, where dark eyes spoke back the same proud smile of conscious beauty—yet, as they turned in their fever of admiration, from their own reflection, to that of Mabel, an uneasy sensation of envy again fired her jealous fancy.
In the simple dress of the orphan girl—simpler even than usual, for it was the travelling dress of the following day; in the delicate color, scarcely heightened by the interest she had been taking in her toilet, there was surely nothing which could account for Caroline's uneasy look, and yet she felt herself inferior.
"Come girls, come Carry," cried Mrs. Villars as she passed the dressing-room door. "Why, Carry, love, you do look brilliant to-night; just one more peep at the glass, and then come down."
Caroline drew over her shoulders an ermine tippet, with considerable attention to the becoming, and, having adjusted it in graceful carelessness—followed, with her sisters and Mabel, to the drawing-room. Colonel Hargrave was standing by the fire, fitting on a pair of white gloves, looking remarkably handsome and distingué, and certainly well deserving the approbation of the proud beauty.