"Yes, love—first love—is a sad and holy thing; a pleasure born out of pain, welcomed with smiles, nourished by tears, and worshipped by the young and enthusiastic as the only real and abiding good in a world of shadow. Alas! for the young heart, why should it ever awake to find the most perfect of its creatures like the rest—a dream!"
And poor Juliet's love-dream was banished very abruptly by the harsh voice of Aunt Dorothy.
"Miss Whitmore, the dinner waits for you. Quick! you have been an hour dressing yourself to-day. Will you never have done arranging your hair? Now, do pray take out those nasty flowers. They do not become you. They look romantic and theatrical."
"Ah, aunt, you must not rob me of my flowers, God's most precious gift to man."
"I hate them! They always make a room look in a litter."
"Hate flowers!" exclaimed Juliet, in unaffected surprise. "God's beautiful flowers! I pity your want of taste, my good aunt."
"Nay, spare your commiseration for those who need it, Miss Whitmore. My judgment is certainly not inferior to yours; and I never could discover the use or beauty of flowers. What! not satisfied yet?" as Juliet cast another hurried glance at the mirror. "The vanity of girls in our days is quite disgusting to a woman of sense."
"I look so ill to-day, aunt, I am ashamed of being seen."
"It is matter of little consequence, I dare say; no one will notice how you look. A few years hence, and there would be some excuse for spending so much time before a looking-glass."
The ladies entered the drawing-room as dinner was announced. If Juliet was dissatisfied with her appearance, Anthony thought that she looked most beautiful, and was delighted to find himself seated beside her. How gladly would he have improved this opportunity of conversing with her, but the natural shyness of his disposition became doubly distressing when he most wished to surmount it; and, with a thousand thoughts in his heart and words upon his tongue, he remained silent. Juliet was the first to speak