“By the way, Alice, you promised to go to Mrs. Dashwood’s grand party,” cried Julia; “so you will be able to judge of ma’ma’s prodigy;” and then, as they left the room, she whispered, “Talk of Herman Wallace, indeed! I would not give one of dear Frank’s heart-glances for all his frozen lordly looks!”
——
CHAPTER V.
MRS. DASHWOOD’S PARTY.
The toilet of the fair Julia, for this eventful evening, was made under the tasteful eye of Mrs. Hazleton herself, who wished her daughter to look her loveliest—to eclipse all other stars in that brilliant galaxy of youth and beauty. Next, the adornment of her own person was her chief care—upon Alice she bestowed not a thought. Julia would fain have had the dress of her friend as beautiful as her own, but this Alice rejected as unsuitable, and made her appearance in the dressing-room of her aunt in a simple white muslin, her only ornaments a set of corals, the gift of her uncle. Mrs. Hazleton enrobed in crimson velvet, and Julia radiantly lovely in white satin and blonde, offered a striking contrast to the unpretending Alice.
“Well, child, you really look quite well—don’t she, love?” was the careless remark of Mrs. Hazleton, “but only see what a rich color Julia has!—I think I never saw her look so perfectly lovely—quite mature, don’t you think so?—more like me! Why what have you got on?—white muslin over a plain cambric! Mercy, had you not a silk skirt? Julia’s tunic is magnificent—I paid one hundred dollars for the lace at Levy’s. Corals are too warm, child—but they will do very well for you—they won’t be noticed. Come here, Julia, and let Alice examine the chasteness of that beautiful aquamarine bracelet—now the ruby—and look at her pin, Alice, is it not superb!”
But a brighter jewel was in the breast of Alice—a heart free from envy!
And now over the tessellated floor fair and lovely forms are gliding—music pours its enchanting strains, and voices scarcely less sweet float on the perfumed air—jewels flash, feathers wave—there are smiles on the brow of beauty, soft speeches on the lips of manhood.
But why, amid this joyous scene, is the brow of Mrs. Hazleton clouded? Admiration can find no higher aim than the charms of Julia; nor does her own ear drink in unwelcome the flatterer’s whisper—yet still the cloud is there. Would you know the reason? Herman Wallace makes not one of the festive throng. She is almost angry with Julia for being so carelessly happy—with Alice for her composure. Suddenly her eye brightens. Ah, the game’s in view! And in a few moments Mrs. Hazleton, now all smiles, presses on to the gay circle of which Wallace seems to be the attraction. She soon fastened upon him, and led him off triumphant to the spot where she had a moment before seen Julia—but Julia was gone, and Alice alone remained, quietly viewing the scene before her. Mrs. Hazleton, however, took not the slightest notice of her, but continued a ceaseless strain in the ears of Wallace. Did not Mr. Wallace like waltzing? Mr. Wallace did not. The polka? Decidedly not. Was Mr. Wallace fond of music? Not in a crowded room.
Mr. Wallace now turned his eye upon Alice. Could Mrs. Hazleton tell him who that interesting looking girl was?