“He would be very angry, Isabel, if he knew it,” returned her mother, trying to speak severely, yet, in her heart, gloating over her daughter’s magnificent appearance.
“I cannot help it, mamma. I had set my heart upon wearing them; they set off my dress superbly; and I was bound I would not be disappointed. He need never know it, for I can return them just as soon as we get home again, and no one will be harmed,” she replied, wilfully.
“Your sense of honor is extremely delicate, surely, Isabel,” said Wilbur, mockingly.
“No one asked your opinion, and you can just hold your tongue. I shall go to Lady Peasewell’s just as I am, and he may help it who can!” she retorted, rudely, and they knew it would be useless to say anything more to her.
“Isabel, you do look magnificent!” whispered Mrs. Coolidge, when they had arrived at Lady Peasewell’s, and were in the dressing-room putting the last touches to their toilet.
“Don’t I? I tell you this was worth a little finesse,” she replied, surveying herself admiringly in the double swinging mirrors; and her mother, in her heart, was glad that she had succeeded in getting the jewels, although she feared the consequences should the fact be discovered.
“Who is that queenly girl?” asked a fine-looking young man of another.
They were standing in the doorway leading from the dancing-room to the conservatory, where they had been watching the dancers for the last ten minutes.
Isabel had just swept by them in all her elegance, and it was he who had called forth the above question.
“That is a Miss Coolidge. She is an American, and belongs to a very wealthy family, who are spending a year abroad.”